1. |
Good Morning
04:10
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Was I dreaming?
The colors were so bright, good bye sweet night
Good morning insanity
Good morning oh suffering
I'll mourn the numb of sleep
Pardon the heresy
I do not know your name
Hosanna, who are you?
Hosanna, what are you?
I will not dig your grave
I'll watch from my window
Waiting for something above
The quiet disturbs the hum
That tugs and tugs and tugs
At what I hopped was love
It's a kiss on the cheek, it's a dove
It's the nail digging into my side
As I scream in hopes that I'll find
Hosanna, where are you?
I'm an animal, what are you?
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2. |
The Couch
05:07
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In a living room of stares, her mind was never really there
Yet her words were soft and sweet like maple syrup from a tree
The golden sap caught the ears of a boy who lived his life in fear
And thought her very tender heart would save him from his inner war
He said "sit upon this couch, you talk quiet and I'll talk loud"
He paused a second to catch his breath and said "I'm forever in your debt"
I'll get a big loan from the bank and make big payments in your name
She cast a line but nothing caught
She said "I'm tired", He said "I'm not"
If brokenness cannot be shared, then why should I pretend to care?
He said "sit upon this couch, you talk quiet and I'll talk loud"
He let out a deep sigh of relief, forever yours I am to keep
His mind was coated in her eyes, her ears deadened by his cries
The last words she said to him "I hope I lose if it means you win"
There's nothing left for you to take, my gift of silence try not to waste
He said "sit upon this couch, you talk quiet and I'll talk loud"
He said "I'm trying to be better" If I lie will it not upset her?
He said "sit upon this couch, you talk quiet and I'll talk loud"
He said "sit upon this couch, am I too quiet, are you too loud"
Well, I'll be quiet
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3. |
The Leader
04:23
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Bury the leader into the ground
We'll all be okay if they just stay down
Is there justice left in our brains?
Or is our ignorance all just the same?
The fast track to benevolence has been twisted and squeezed
If we were better, we'd cry over all these things
But our patience has been cast into a grave
We're left with contention and an attraction to shame
A man named Cain walked these streets alone
If he had been thinking, he would have hid ables bones
What happens when jealousy becomes a murderous act
Then we'd all be convicted from these thoughts we had had
These holes we've been digging they aren't nearly deep enough
For the amount of sincerity that was all just a bluff
If your a liar, I guess I'm probably too
We're all just hoping that we've got the right truth
Who is my master? I can only have one
If it matters, why has nobody won?
Who is my master? I can only have one
Will it matter, when somebody's won
Path up the patchwork tear down the tears
There's no use in fixing something that was never there
Place a bandage over your mouth
And hope your silence keeps those leaders buried down
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4. |
The Narrator
05:49
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The scene starts in a bathroom
Someone's crying on the floor
Bless those who sit on this cold tile
And don't care if there's an ear to the door
They said prepare for something greater
As if greater always feels good
Greater is the lukewarm bathtub
As a opposed to this chilly floor
If I weren't the narrator of my own demise
Would other people's turmoil still be a big surprise
Oh no I'm a hypocrite
Saying things like you'll get through this
Saying things like you'll benefit from this again
The scene is in front of the bathroom mirror
The reflection an unreliable thought
Is this what they were saying
When they said remember what you were taught
Hands were under running water
Baptism by liquid fire
Is this the kind of judgement
That's required to keep someone alive
If I weren't the narrator of my own demise
Would other people's turmoil still be a big surprise
Oh no I'm a hypocrite
Saying things like you'll get through this
Saying things like you'll benefit from this again
If I weren't the narrator of my own demise
Would other people's turmoil still be a big surprise
Oh no I'm a hypocrite
Saying things like you'll get through this
Saying things like you'll benefit from this again
Oh no I'm a hypocrite
Saying things like you're meant for this
Saying things like it's different this time
If I weren't the narrator of my own demise
Would other people's turmoil still be a big surprise
Oh no I'm a hypocrite
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Mirabelle Skipworth Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
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