1. |
Quiet as a Root Canal
02:19
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Drawing a long breath
As to get a good start
Arrogance and detachment
In every fiber
Had not expected this
Breaking up the party
Books and pamphlets lean against each other
Legs crossed
Silence speaking for itself
Agreeing on quietism
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2. |
Is Subjective
03:08
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To give a slow sorrowful reading
A few brass coins
Clutched in my bony fists
Gathered together in one room for the first time
Born three years ahead of time
Nineteen seventy-nine
Throwing shadows at passing cars
Fitting initiation
Attacked your books with a knife
Convincing me you have nothing to say
The smell of your own work is the smell of death
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3. |
If Content is King
02:50
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May my words be soft and low
(for I may have to eat them)
May my words be spoken softly
(for I may have to eat them)
It’s another way of higher treason
It’s another way of say it loud
That’s why I could not live with myself
And how I could not live with myself
Speak softly or I may spell out
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4. |
Lullaby pt.2
02:48
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Concurrent dreams
Intertwined and not making any point
No reason, no logic
Like a far distant hum
Off sand, off filth
Besides the sea
Night being, spirit of the wind
Old trees in the sky
Sweet Anzu, my crown, sit tight
Let me rest! Let me sleep!
Lilitu, goodnight.
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Wits End Oslo, Norway
Old-school emo from Oslo, Norway.
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