(no subject)
Saving Days
Fit into that swollen flesh,
and interrupt my thought.
Fix me up, and savor me
until we end, heart-shot.
Split the skies to disarray.
Come what may, come what will.
Aim to kill, aim to die.
Cut the ties that hold the skies intact.
Fortune fuck for tomorrow.
May good luck know your face
in every pore, as well as I.
Cry - don't dry your eyes for me.
This isn't God. This isn't God.
This isn't God with life in his eyes.
This isn't God that lies his heart away.
Save God, save God for another day.
Spit the cries, the screams that break.
Fiction takes what fact can't fill,
and in the mill, the children scream their pleas.
Amongst the bees, spit your cries for love.
And at the fork, you make your way,
saving days for other paths,
and other wraths to wreak on me,
in opportunity, at other forks that flirt.
At other fucks that may...
This isn't God that splits my sleeve.
This isn't God that fucks in grief.
Pull another God down from the shelf
to save God, save God from himself.
I, Robot Part II
I'm a poet,
but it's still hard to say
that your harness holds me tightly, cruelly
within the breaking day.
Sun-scorched after a time-
I'm sure it will come,
later than sooner
to make me wait too long.
The sun's bleeding across the sky,
and my skin's too dry to make the tie.
Muzzle me, then nuzzle me again;
within the aftermath of the end, defend.
Skinned-
Cancer.
Direction,
point me the way home.
Read over the words again;
crumble in fire, Rome.
Finish me before the moon;
it's face leers, unknowing. (You know it?)
Uncover your lies in dark,
because the light just makes you blind.
The moon's bleeding across your chest,
but it's not the first to spill upon that breast.
Nirvana, you're too far from sunlight,
too far to fight in accusation, to spite.
Listen-
Heartbeat.
Dead, unbeating.
Unlearned, uncomforting.
Paranoid assembly line,
this model's gone berserk.
Watch your heart,
and watch your throat.
It's got a razor tongue
that tastes of rich men's blood.
It's got an android brain
that isn't quite alive.
It's got a razor mind
that loves to smell the sun.
Your robot pierces me
to my unsatisfactory end.
Truly,
I, Robot, will never die,
but this human pain is far too much to bear.
Choker
Scratch at the pricks inside of broken skin-
pin-pricks, filling the emptiness within.
Shorn skin, hair, singed inside with kerosene-
enough to make your body warm.
Enough to make those bright eyes gleam.
The note reads in controversial query
of time in gentle us, unweary.
Ten days of fearing, growing over;
Faced against the morning sun-
eyes watering in burning flare.
Unfair.
Fruits of Love
Shattered skin sprinkles glass
in glistening, moon-lit shards.
The darkness reflects light unseen
around the edges of the frame.
The player plays his hand so crass
and lays out all his cards.
The lions, grudging, count their means
to leave the gloating pig untame.
What is to be had of fame,
but a loving hand upon yours
that knows you in the darkness
as you know their silhouette?
Once met, twice a virgin
on the sheets upon the rug.
Forgot where fruitless labor lays,
left behind with fruits of love.
Into the heart, adventure, surgeon
and give a fatal tug.
I left my heart in braver days
wrapped in fingers on her glove.
What does it mean to be the dove
that she will always seek-
the one that she has always sought for
and never will release?
This page of his has just one crease,
dividing it to just two parts.
The beginning states him "fortunate,"
while the end knows only "ire."
Cooked to simmer with spittled grease
that burns into our hearts.
We make ourselves more ungulate
with wild hooves that stomp the fire.
But stallions never seem to tire
the way that I have in this game,
with all these jugate possibilities
and the only one I want, unmade.
I'm Over This
Tightened within the arms of God,
forget the past; forget the pain.
I'm over this. I'm forging light.
Scrape the surface in refrain.
And who's to say these scattered dreams
aren't what I've made them out to be?
They're over, gone, and comatose;
where once was smoke, now I can see.
Tighten, tighten. Strangle me.
Strangle dreams out of empty folds.
Fissures open every seam I sew,
and the golden thread I'd sewn enfolds.
My mistake was your mistake,
and your mistake was trusting.
I'd trusted mine to be the way,
and you trusted in youth's lusting.
My skin is on your skin again
in flakes and shards of what it was-
a cold reminder of what I'd been.
A cold reminder of ---
But now, I'm in God's green arms,
wrapped with the love you miss.
Steal a kiss, and steal the soul.
At a loss, I'm over this.
Ok, so Josh and I have been working on this album, which is a concept album, Coheed and Cambria inspired. (Oh, and Angelfire is fucked as hell. I'm about to fucking decimate it.) We've got three songs by now. Lyric-wise at least. Two of the songs (Part One and Nine) we have music to as well. Anyways, here those are.
Part One - Nocturnal Bloom
One step closer
to being what I need.
Hold me closer-
grow in me, star-seed.
I have no will
except to heed your plea.
I can, I will;
maybe, I can let you see.
Camera shyness;
I'm frightened of your flash.
Fickle shyness;
reconstructing me from ash.
Smell of iris;
perfume fills up the vast.
Wilt now, Iris;
let me forget about my past.
Killer - lost love;
it only takes courage to know.
Chase, I'm in love,
but it's so hard to let it show.
Twist words for me
to smash my simple law.
Crying, hide me
underneath velaria.
Part Four - Vindication I - Bouquet
You're calling my name again.
I want you locked in my jaw tonight.
I've been burning the bedsides.
I've been burning in beds for some time.
Waiting.
Inert, pretended accusations
Of little things you left behind
Locked to the door on the way out
It's all just because
I - tried
I'm sorry, Deos--
I'm burning it tonight.
Tell Deos I'm sorry--
'cause I'll be burning the stars tonight.
Your fucked up words and cobweb singing
Memories begin to climb,
So lost inside your muddled reverb,
Is all that wasted time
Vega, like the whores I fuck, your treatment's just a crime.
And Vega, I'm the one you'll bleed for when I make you mine.
I'm sorry, Deos--
I'll be burning it tonight
Tell Deos, I'm so sorry--
'cause I'll be burning his star tonight
Don't touch her, Deos--
Vega will be mine.
You're wasted, Deos--
And I'm burning her corpse tonight.
Part Nine - Cassiopeia
What if I could wake up as a different man?
Take a brick from this place; heal a nick in the plan.
Deos, wake up; you're alive in a star.
Deos, you're the blood of this healing scar.
And I miss you,
and I want you
back
for her.
And I hope you
know Vega's
fine.
I'm reborn on this star in a constellation.
Become Cassiopeia, Vega.
Though this isn't what I dreamed of, new love,
I'll fix it on my shoulders.
And I'll keep it
locked in-
side,
away from
the killers
and the
blood.
And I'll share her
as much as
she
wants.
Dear Deos,
you've got her
heart.
She's holding
to me so
tight,
the red is
smearing the
white.
Goddamnit!
How could you
die?
Dear Deos,
Vega is
fine.
Awake now, when the wound is healed;
it's better than the nightmare seemed.
But what if all this gold won't gleam?
Maybe it's just me...
You're on a fiery chariot,
swinging through our galaxy.
Deos, you're a falling star,
singing Vega back to sleep...
by me.
You're on a fiery chariot,
swinging through our galaxy.
Descend upon your chariot
to know that Vega's fine with me.
Red satin,
skin in a
knot.
Think about it.
Know Deos,
this isn't
what
I'd wanted.
(The vengeance-)
Blood heals no
wound.
I'll watch her;
she'll think of
you.
Dear Vega,
please hold my
heart
for now.
Dear Deos,
I won't
let
you down.
I'll ride a fiery chariot,
and if they ever try and take her face,
they'll have the dead to deal with
in keeping her in grace.
You're on a fiery chariot,
swinging through our galaxy.
Deos, you're a falling star,
singing Vega back to sleep.
(This is changing constantly, so we'll see if this is the final version or not. Probably not.)
OK, well, that's about it.
Fit into that swollen flesh,
and interrupt my thought.
Fix me up, and savor me
until we end, heart-shot.
Split the skies to disarray.
Come what may, come what will.
Aim to kill, aim to die.
Cut the ties that hold the skies intact.
Fortune fuck for tomorrow.
May good luck know your face
in every pore, as well as I.
Cry - don't dry your eyes for me.
This isn't God. This isn't God.
This isn't God with life in his eyes.
This isn't God that lies his heart away.
Save God, save God for another day.
Spit the cries, the screams that break.
Fiction takes what fact can't fill,
and in the mill, the children scream their pleas.
Amongst the bees, spit your cries for love.
And at the fork, you make your way,
saving days for other paths,
and other wraths to wreak on me,
in opportunity, at other forks that flirt.
At other fucks that may...
This isn't God that splits my sleeve.
This isn't God that fucks in grief.
Pull another God down from the shelf
to save God, save God from himself.
I, Robot Part II
I'm a poet,
but it's still hard to say
that your harness holds me tightly, cruelly
within the breaking day.
Sun-scorched after a time-
I'm sure it will come,
later than sooner
to make me wait too long.
The sun's bleeding across the sky,
and my skin's too dry to make the tie.
Muzzle me, then nuzzle me again;
within the aftermath of the end, defend.
Skinned-
Cancer.
Direction,
point me the way home.
Read over the words again;
crumble in fire, Rome.
Finish me before the moon;
it's face leers, unknowing. (You know it?)
Uncover your lies in dark,
because the light just makes you blind.
The moon's bleeding across your chest,
but it's not the first to spill upon that breast.
Nirvana, you're too far from sunlight,
too far to fight in accusation, to spite.
Listen-
Heartbeat.
Dead, unbeating.
Unlearned, uncomforting.
Paranoid assembly line,
this model's gone berserk.
Watch your heart,
and watch your throat.
It's got a razor tongue
that tastes of rich men's blood.
It's got an android brain
that isn't quite alive.
It's got a razor mind
that loves to smell the sun.
Your robot pierces me
to my unsatisfactory end.
Truly,
I, Robot, will never die,
but this human pain is far too much to bear.
Choker
Scratch at the pricks inside of broken skin-
pin-pricks, filling the emptiness within.
Shorn skin, hair, singed inside with kerosene-
enough to make your body warm.
Enough to make those bright eyes gleam.
The note reads in controversial query
of time in gentle us, unweary.
Ten days of fearing, growing over;
Faced against the morning sun-
eyes watering in burning flare.
Unfair.
Fruits of Love
Shattered skin sprinkles glass
in glistening, moon-lit shards.
The darkness reflects light unseen
around the edges of the frame.
The player plays his hand so crass
and lays out all his cards.
The lions, grudging, count their means
to leave the gloating pig untame.
What is to be had of fame,
but a loving hand upon yours
that knows you in the darkness
as you know their silhouette?
Once met, twice a virgin
on the sheets upon the rug.
Forgot where fruitless labor lays,
left behind with fruits of love.
Into the heart, adventure, surgeon
and give a fatal tug.
I left my heart in braver days
wrapped in fingers on her glove.
What does it mean to be the dove
that she will always seek-
the one that she has always sought for
and never will release?
This page of his has just one crease,
dividing it to just two parts.
The beginning states him "fortunate,"
while the end knows only "ire."
Cooked to simmer with spittled grease
that burns into our hearts.
We make ourselves more ungulate
with wild hooves that stomp the fire.
But stallions never seem to tire
the way that I have in this game,
with all these jugate possibilities
and the only one I want, unmade.
I'm Over This
Tightened within the arms of God,
forget the past; forget the pain.
I'm over this. I'm forging light.
Scrape the surface in refrain.
And who's to say these scattered dreams
aren't what I've made them out to be?
They're over, gone, and comatose;
where once was smoke, now I can see.
Tighten, tighten. Strangle me.
Strangle dreams out of empty folds.
Fissures open every seam I sew,
and the golden thread I'd sewn enfolds.
My mistake was your mistake,
and your mistake was trusting.
I'd trusted mine to be the way,
and you trusted in youth's lusting.
My skin is on your skin again
in flakes and shards of what it was-
a cold reminder of what I'd been.
A cold reminder of ---
But now, I'm in God's green arms,
wrapped with the love you miss.
Steal a kiss, and steal the soul.
At a loss, I'm over this.
Ok, so Josh and I have been working on this album, which is a concept album, Coheed and Cambria inspired. (Oh, and Angelfire is fucked as hell. I'm about to fucking decimate it.) We've got three songs by now. Lyric-wise at least. Two of the songs (Part One and Nine) we have music to as well. Anyways, here those are.
Part One - Nocturnal Bloom
One step closer
to being what I need.
Hold me closer-
grow in me, star-seed.
I have no will
except to heed your plea.
I can, I will;
maybe, I can let you see.
Camera shyness;
I'm frightened of your flash.
Fickle shyness;
reconstructing me from ash.
Smell of iris;
perfume fills up the vast.
Wilt now, Iris;
let me forget about my past.
Killer - lost love;
it only takes courage to know.
Chase, I'm in love,
but it's so hard to let it show.
Twist words for me
to smash my simple law.
Crying, hide me
underneath velaria.
Part Four - Vindication I - Bouquet
You're calling my name again.
I want you locked in my jaw tonight.
I've been burning the bedsides.
I've been burning in beds for some time.
Waiting.
Inert, pretended accusations
Of little things you left behind
Locked to the door on the way out
It's all just because
I - tried
I'm sorry, Deos--
I'm burning it tonight.
Tell Deos I'm sorry--
'cause I'll be burning the stars tonight.
Your fucked up words and cobweb singing
Memories begin to climb,
So lost inside your muddled reverb,
Is all that wasted time
Vega, like the whores I fuck, your treatment's just a crime.
And Vega, I'm the one you'll bleed for when I make you mine.
I'm sorry, Deos--
I'll be burning it tonight
Tell Deos, I'm so sorry--
'cause I'll be burning his star tonight
Don't touch her, Deos--
Vega will be mine.
You're wasted, Deos--
And I'm burning her corpse tonight.
Part Nine - Cassiopeia
What if I could wake up as a different man?
Take a brick from this place; heal a nick in the plan.
Deos, wake up; you're alive in a star.
Deos, you're the blood of this healing scar.
And I miss you,
and I want you
back
for her.
And I hope you
know Vega's
fine.
I'm reborn on this star in a constellation.
Become Cassiopeia, Vega.
Though this isn't what I dreamed of, new love,
I'll fix it on my shoulders.
And I'll keep it
locked in-
side,
away from
the killers
and the
blood.
And I'll share her
as much as
she
wants.
Dear Deos,
you've got her
heart.
She's holding
to me so
tight,
the red is
smearing the
white.
Goddamnit!
How could you
die?
Dear Deos,
Vega is
fine.
Awake now, when the wound is healed;
it's better than the nightmare seemed.
But what if all this gold won't gleam?
Maybe it's just me...
You're on a fiery chariot,
swinging through our galaxy.
Deos, you're a falling star,
singing Vega back to sleep...
by me.
You're on a fiery chariot,
swinging through our galaxy.
Descend upon your chariot
to know that Vega's fine with me.
Red satin,
skin in a
knot.
Think about it.
Know Deos,
this isn't
what
I'd wanted.
(The vengeance-)
Blood heals no
wound.
I'll watch her;
she'll think of
you.
Dear Vega,
please hold my
heart
for now.
Dear Deos,
I won't
let
you down.
I'll ride a fiery chariot,
and if they ever try and take her face,
they'll have the dead to deal with
in keeping her in grace.
You're on a fiery chariot,
swinging through our galaxy.
Deos, you're a falling star,
singing Vega back to sleep.
(This is changing constantly, so we'll see if this is the final version or not. Probably not.)
OK, well, that's about it.