1. |
The Last Sun
02:43
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My mind is overgrown,
The roots lay deeper than I thought.
And the thorns are sharper than I could ever assume,
I guess I’m just waiting for the flowers to bloom.
But it seems like winter has just began, this will be the last time
This will be the last sun, this will be the last setting sun.
The frost on the soil will kill all what it once fed.
And my skin will turn into a decaying flower bed
So bury me somewhere where I belong
In a place where I can rest forever on my own
Maybe the fungi in the earth will appreciate what I am worth.
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2. |
Black Palette
00:40
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Set fire to the city
Let its smoke cover the ever gray canvas
And it’ll paint a vivid picture of a bleak reality
An image of selfish kings, and charitable thieves
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3. |
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I saw the fiery wrath become kindled, in people, terrified of death.
As they shouted the same word over and over again
He felt the heaviness, although the stone hadn’t struck yet
Knees sunken to the ground, the gray sky is what his eyes found
His prayers didn’t go unheard,
Despite the torture,
As he pardoned his prosecutors.
The first condemned martyr under meager skies.
Made every planet’s night of darkness deprived.
No overcast by clouds could cover our eyes.
Only smoke from the fire which thickly veiled our sight.
It suffocated us,
There in Purgatory.
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4. |
Untitled
03:47
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As the market breaks down and waste gathers.
A heron hits ground looking to scavenge.
On decaying leftover meat, such a gluttonous vice.
Embracing human disease and a halo of flies.
Every feather that falls
Will get us closer to the sun
Every wax drip that falls
Will get us closer to the sun
But we will die in a horrible crash
Trying to escape our miserable death
Never forget that weight is relative
And that small things can act as leverage.
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5. |
Phusis' Oath
03:13
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You fool, the dagger will cut both ways.
You bastard, you’ll never learn from your mistakes.
I figured, it’s better to watch us slowly self-destruct.
To justify my thoughts.
A golden ball and chain.will drag you towards the riverbed.
At the same old pace Phusis wants it to be.
The outcome is unavoidable.
The blue blooded are the hammer
The ones resisting are the nails
And together they’ll hold form
To coffin containing the world
What’s altruism?
What’s good will?
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