1. |
One
00:55
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2. |
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3. |
Two
00:43
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4. |
The Turning
01:28
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5. |
Perspective
01:30
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Well I could gain perspective
By chewing on the side that counts
But that's not all I would have wanted
I allow myself to have doubts
But everything is supernatural
And at the same time stored in vats
It lingers on,
blooming from the algae
And I could not argue with that
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6. |
Three
00:33
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7. |
Clickbait
02:19
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8. |
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In the king's castle
I wrote a letter to the wind
and I could see its imprints in my hand
In the queen's courtyard,
I let my hair down, saw a lot,
and I could see the starry sky, inside a funnel not alone
I would enter
and I would see no reason
for to wish the dark away
If you wander,
let your questions be forgiven
in their own display
Every nightfall,
there's an airplane in the wand
that once was mine but now it's our's
And to think that
we are simply keepers
of all the sky's charms and all its harm
Aging body
felt inside a rainbow
that left its mark on me
Intuition,
built upon a highway
that lives beside the sea
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9. |
Four
00:48
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10. |
Shrine
02:09
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Although I cannot see
the precise way to enter
in a minute, my hands
can reflect a light upon the walls.
It's been awhile,
but I am sure that I can lift my body
from the slanted room
to the chamber of windows.
Yes, the windows that let in the full presence
of all that I can see but not control.
The movement of my body will then have wings,
my speech passing through the corridors.
What is this system of rituals
that I come upon,
what does it mean? My own way of blasphemy,
ingrained but never challenged.
One still wonders where the key lies.
I have been told of the powers
that be and those that will be after that,
or simply that their entrance will come about,
in a procession. And I have been told
to clear the brush,
and to kneel down, punctuating the story,
redirecting as much as I can.
There will be a time
when the silent night will let the chatter in,
where the knife blade of happenstance can hear me
singing.
The eye opened, to sprinklers, fountains,
and hidden storage closets. To pass among,
but to never truly see what is seen.
It is a neverending fate, but if rested on one's shoulder,
it does not deafen the movment. Some interactions
beget a fragrance, others don't. And this will be
the way, and the softening will harden into a mobile command.
A little line, diverging, but returning, sometimes in the same
space of time. I speak of this and cannot hide from this.
In the end, I cannot hide.
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11. |
Religion
01:19
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12. |
The Behemoth Returneth
02:50
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13. |
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14. |
Interlude
00:46
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15. |
Meeting Ground
01:57
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What am I seeing in the silence that I create?
What am I wanting in the world that isn't here?
If it's palpable
and if it's stone faced
I will continue to recall the ways that
I see every matter as a finite inch of land
But if I close my eyes
and if I take a breath
If I continue to re-emerge into ice skates
I will remember if you said that you were fine
If you said that you
could understand how
All of the emptiness could break until its broken
and it could break until it finds you in your sleep
But if you stand tall
and if you see how
Oh I cannot see
and you cannot see
but we crawl and may find a meeting ground
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16. |
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