I light the world around me. I carry fear. I draw the curtain and the whole room disappears. When my eyes open all your faces tumble free. I reign you in at night and nations sleep with me.
A single hand extended and I leave it cold. Don't mistake a reckless man for someone who is bold. I've got it.
I've got the fear. I've got it.
The sea is stretching 'til it tangles with the sky. Each day the Earth is born. Each night I watch it die. I carry oceans in the salt within my veins, my heart as vacant as the weather-beaten plains.
See my hand extended and you leave it cold. Recognize the truth behind the riddle I have told. You've got it.
You've got the fear. You've got it.
Track Name: Painted Over
When the story started I was crafted fit and clean, the finest specimen you'd seen. My cape was starched and folded right. The light reflected in my eyes. The days stretched out like open arms. Alarms were silenced, stuffed in boxes, cataloged and put away.
Cut from cloth, your tired eyes should take a look in my direction. Hours are not woven out of dreams. Let the chips fall as...they lie. There isn't time to make corrections. Clay is what they shaped me out of.
Narratives were formed and roles were cast without election. Elocution classes followed, blocked complete with measured lines. Obey the script as it is written. Learn the part as it's assigned. The rhyme and rhythm have a cadence. I was put here by design.
When the story ended I was never supposed to be the villain. When the story ended I was never supposed to be a shadow. I would walk in smiling and my name would be a good one., but when the story ended I'd been painted over.
Track Name: Floating Trains
I drank down lead in the merciless heat when it seemed all the world attacked me, when the wind drew the songs of dogs through the alleys and their verses held me completely. There was really only one way all of this was ever going to work out.
I used to pray that I’d learn how to pray with the right words to say and to whom I’d address them; floating trains and sweet chariots raining down, fiery ladders ascending to heaven. There was really only one way that my life was ever going to work out.
I got out. I escaped; brought my bloody bones back from the brink, cleaned them off and I wore them. Made a list of the prayers and the songs I had learned from the wind and the dogs and seraphim. There was really only one way that this song was ever going to play out.
You can escape, you can get out. Big and small, we can bury them all. Our graves are empty and we are always elsewhere.
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