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1. |
Violent Delights
00:49
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[instrumental]
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2. |
Sequoia
03:36
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It's always the same story,
That never seems to cease.
Be it lessened or lengthened,
It always ends the same.
The same start, the same characters, with the same lines,
Ignoring everything we're not supposed to see.
The pictures, the lies, the words that set us on our own.
Will these violent delights bring us violent ends?
Will the cycle continue?
Set on a path that never ends,
Until it's broken --
By the simplest phrase.
See the truth in their eyes, caged inside their minds.
Questioning all that they know,
It's all happened before.
The death of the creator,
The death of an era.
Pull the gun, remember the past.
The past lives, and the past pains.
All coming back to you,
In the broken dreams of your reality.
Will these violent delights bring us violent ends?
Will the cycle continue?
Will these violent delights bring us violent ends?
Will these violent delights bring us violent ends?
Will the cycle continue?
Set on a path that never ends,
Until it's broken.
Pull the gun, remember the past.
The past lives, and the past pains.
All coming back to you,
In the broken dreams of your reality.
Until it's broken by the simplest phrase,
The death of the creator,
The death of an era.
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3. |
Emory
04:03
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Tell me what to feel,
Tell me what it means to be alive.
Show me.
Tell me where to go,
Tell me what to feel,
Show me.
The present never lasts,
Built upon broken glass.
Did we just want reprieve?
From the Earth, sweetest birth.
Introspection is a consciousness that I've slowly left behind.
Along the way,
As I built the plight I've left inside.
Stuck in the past, I've seen the future;
The present never lasts.
Built upon the broken glass of what we know.
Cyclical questions feeding back rhetorically.
Did we just want reprieve from the Earth?
The sweetest birth.
Never lasts, broken glass.
Show me how.
Is this where all our thoughts just disagree?
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4. |
Thema (feat. Tony Ragle)
04:48
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Back in that house, I used to dream,
Of a familiar face with a name I can no longer place.
It's so hard to forget,
But the wicked get no rest.
I never thought I would fall so far,
So low.
I've become a wretch that I barely even know.
Trapped in this hollow body,
Remorse and grief.
Struggling to breathe,
There has to be more than this.
Surely, there's a high road,
But back in that fucking house, no light shines in.
Choking me out,
So hard to forget.
Begging for release,
I never thought I would know peace.
Always dread the call, but never at fault.
In my glass home, I never cast the first stone.
(I'll see you cast from your trying throne.)
(I'll see you get no rest)
Pull me to the void,
Push me out to sea.
Drifting, transient,
Eternally.
Pull me to the void,
Push me out to sea.
There comes a point in your life,
That you look at things objectively.
A different point of view can justify the rage,
the pain, and show that you were not to blame.
A different point of view can justify the rage,
The pain.
A different point of view can justify the rage,
And show that you were just not to blame.
Always dread the call, but never at fault.
In my glass home, I never cast the first stone.
(I'll see you cast from your trying throne.)
(I'll see you get no rest)
Pull me to the void,
Push me out to sea.
Drifting, transient,
Eternally.
Back in that fucking house,
I learned who not to be.
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5. |
Violent Ends
03:52
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This is not the coda.
Clutching at the helm,
Offering a view at the shoreline.
To the ship, the shore is home.
And now he's pondering, on some sudden relapse,
And how quickly it could all just collapse.
And in those nine long years that he just let elapse.
Oh,
He just let them escape.
So cold and so finite, the hole she left him in,
But when he closes his eyes, he feels the warmth of her skin,
She always knew of her illness, she tried to forebode,
A little hint of how this could never be the coda.
This could never be the coda.
And now he's pondering, on some sudden relapse,
And how quickly it could all just collapse.
And in those nine long years that he just let elapse.
Oh,
He just let them escape.
This isn't saying goodbye, because he doesn't think he can.
This is an in-perpetuum, that is stretching so thin,
And as much as it hurts, this has to come to an end,
But it spun such beautiful shapes.
Clutching at the helm,
Offering a view at the shoreline.
To the ship, the shore is home.
Encroaching on the so shallow waters.
Rallying around the thought of returning home.
This is not the coda.
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Glass Idols Watauga, Tennessee
Progressive metal core from Tennessee.
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