1. |
Rebels
03:24
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All of my days are blurring into one. The stark landscape that surrounds me gives no comfort. I'm learning to hate this mask, this skin I walk around in. Waging war inside my mind.
My skewed fronts of security and balance won't last. I become transparent.
Grinding teeth, wearing thin. This hopelessness comes from within. I'm a ghost in a room, I'm void of all solace. I am slipping through the cracks.
My prayers lost the way among the cracks and caves of Earth.
The winter took my soul, and crushed its worth.
I am the pieces, I was whole.
I am the air.
I am no more.
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2. |
Castoff
04:03
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We are pieces, fractions, of the whole. My parts are slowly getting glued back into place. Cracks remain.
Your pieces stay where they are, left for you to pick them back up.
Your pieces stay where they are, left for you to pick them back up.
We are pieces, fractions, of the whole. My parts are slowly getting glued back into place. Cracks remain.
I don't have answers to any questions we ask.
I have lost all, and started to gain some back.
I am on my feet: Standing. Breathing.
I am on my feet: Still here. Still Alive.
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3. |
Emory Peak
03:38
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When do you realize that you've crossed the line?
Telling lies, you say it's fine.
When you're alone you try to let it out. It's hard, because they broke you down.
Looking around, you only feel fear. Often wondering: Why am I here?
One day you'll try to get away. I know my purpose and I'm here to stay.
I'll lean back, fingers intertwined behind my head. Listening to you tell stories of a spotted path that I could never dream of.
Everywhere I've been that isn't here, and everything I know that isn't new still means something. And I'll be OK with that, someday.
But the ghosts in these mountains, can shake the ground and turn bodies into dust.
And I know I can't sleep now. I won't rest not knowing where I stand.
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the Dirty Thirties West Milford, New Jersey
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