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lyrics

The ping of raindrops knocks gently on the windowpane that hangs above the bed in which her fickle little figure lays
Nimble fingers twitch awake to itch a space of inner leg
The lifting lids bring pixelated visions of infinite disarray
That dissipate in a single wave of fleeting fear and faith
Clarity
Prepared to be, again
She clears her tearful face
Spirit braced to chase the sacred, vacant dream of clean existence
Seek forgiveness for the demon's given along with the feeding of fixes
The people visit, then exit, with different methods
Keeping hidden or detected in attendance
She reaches for redemption
Ever afflicted with the scars and marks
A landing strip for kisses
Sitting with the stars
Her head up in the clouds
Spinning
Keeping the past buried within
She carries sin and burdens and bliss throughout the circular twist
Through personal shifts and natural occurrences, she's turned, observed and been through the worst of it

So many surface-splitting surges of worthlessness
She's been searching for tourniquets
Something permanent to bandage the damage and fight the parasites that tear and bite to survive
Inclines to share life with the cherished lights in the sky
She rises up the tides in times of overblown emotion
With overtones of a broken, almost comatose and hopeless sense of loathing
If only she could take it back to the days of complacent lack of waste
Naked space
Fade to black

But wait, she's back to crack the dawn
Fashion songs of natural cause attached to calm atmosphere and a dash of awe
To mask the flaws she's acquired over centuries
Providing her own necessities prior to knowing treachery and violent, probing wretches depleting bio-expression she's presented so heavenly from divided coasts to separate seas
High hopes and severed seems that lie with broken evergreens
A choked up rising ocean, but no lifeboat could set her free
Crying 'open sesame' with tightrope trajectory
Slowly exposing ghosts on the climb toward total entropy
Eventually ending the nose to grindstone connect
And yet she still sees her destiny with the sky eloped in ecstasy
Universal energy sent, received and recycled
A second is just a breath and an exit is an arrival
Pessimistic survival mode
Trying so hard to yield and provide while shielding her eyes from the disease in disguise
Keeping her tied down with time
Drowned in a sea of live rounds
Crowning achievements for heathens aimed at leading them sky bound
Pieces of the pie scrounged, devoured and regurgitated
Circumnavigation rakes her skin and makes it perforated
Her perspirations dug into, for
"PRODUCE MORE!", they hoot and holler as she scoots farther into a skewed form
Moving through storms
Bruised and torn
Feeling lukewarm
A jewel scorned by abusers courting her like a used whore
Let the gloom swarm
Bloom forth beauty sources
Protruding orchards from the flesh
She is truly gorgeous
A moving portrait with a soothing fortress orbit
Tuning tombs for holy ghost opuses
Due for new coordinates

The solar systems are vast and immeasurable
Not to (inter)dimension-all linked and paralleled
Inseparable
Spiritual and physical
Molecular divisible
Exceptional
A spectacle
Majestic
Full of whimsical
Decibels and decimals and intervals
Evolution, death and restitution
Blessed unions, none invincible
Simple little minuscule particles
All a part of a larger elemental tapestry
Happy to be, heart and soul

credits

from It's Not the End of the World​.​.​.​Wait, it is?, released July 4, 2012
Produced by Errol Hem

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Errol Hem East Moline, Illinois

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