Hot Cross : Cryonics
Las palabras
1. FORTUNE TELLER
Caught cutting through the running tide.
Bleeding out; portrayed way past a prime tripping over words and playing tricks on time.
Eastern standard time of the dead.
Wear clocks round our necks like tombstones.
Fuck not lest ye be fucked.
A point invariably moot when you've outgrown smarts and frustration is your strongest suit.
Keep in mind, it's the wisest man that will always be told to foret his ego for a minute and realize that he can't replace his ass just because he found a crack in it.
(26 years past my prime as if minutes made a difference)And How can we sit so still when it's so hard (Like ostriches with heads in sand we fear our desires.)
So hard to find what you loved (Breathe every breath like it wasn't a countdown) to find what you felt in that touch?
(Breathe every breath like it wasn't a countdown)
And How can I go searching for these days when I'm standing among them?
Rhetorical wisdom is a locked door a lost chance and all you'll ever see a statement betrayed like your worst enemy.
Breathe every breath like it wasn't a countdown. Can't change a mind lost to the hours held so dear, can't force your way out of a dream purchased with fear.
2. A WEEKEND SPENT DISTANCE
Patchwork existence. (Running in circles) A button martyr matrimony. (Running in circles is the easiest way)
Scene screeen Survival. (Running in circles) An exodus assumed. (Running in circles is the easiest way)
Who's got the monopoly (of where you're going) on sincerity? (of where you've been.) We can scream for sin or for days about what we lose and what we've won, but in the end you're only as good as what you've done.
Forget the phony fuck that thinks with an ass instead of a head; it's a game left for losers in a scene they've already fled.
I can't believe for you, I've already left so much behind.
Eleven years of fists and words to keep the right state of mind, and it's easy to lose when you've forgotten the game.
Whether it's sanity or love you've lost it all amounts to the same, it's the same color with a different face.
Self-selected exiled running in the same old race.
3. PRETTY PICTURE OF A BROKEN FACE
(What have you become?) If the pictures were the past I'd tear them all up into shreds.
I've found my way back now.
If our exchange of words was free I'd type another to the wind.(Just the prettiest picture of a broken face) I've found my way back there.
One last wish for one lasting goodbye. (with a third of the appeal and never worth the chase.)
I've found my way back there. No one here will miss you when you're gone. (with a third of the appeal and never worth the chase.)
No No No No. Make your selection. No no no no. Another one will come along.
No point in steering now, the brakes are out and the search for interests or boy meets girl is the counterculture clock ticking out a song that paints the shadow of this world.
The lights are brighter when the game is new, and though I've tried, I wish I could say the same for you.
Don't forget that when you cease to see things the way you want to, it's the least important people that come back to haunt you.
4. A TALE FOR THE AGES
Give me back one last chance to drink from the sky.
I'm sick of chasing echoes and fighting a lost cause just to let words fly. (Fell short of real.)
Once there was so much left to what was real but these days I'll never bet my hands on the first thing you feel. (Stuck in a world, with no in's or out's.)
Eight generations passed on one last curse, one last chance to shake free one million nights passed losing sense once so easy to see.
"I've left too many lives behind," she cries.
Stronger words for a fading will when new language only serves to cut even deeper still, and pennies for your thoughts are simply wasted on chance, and we are twisting through years without looking ahead.
5. DISSERTATION:14
The silence we've found always prouder than the voice you lost.
Clawing through words dropped from lips content with a last breath like a heretic.
Finding a dream of salvation; a hint of reality too involved for imagination.
This will be a tribute to the years we've spent building so much nothing, as homage to hour hands lost to empty sounds.
The loudest days hiding hopeless eyes; looking for a lifeline but only breaking ties.
We are so many lifetimes away from the one we want to be. Take your place and play the part.
We are so many lifetimes away from the one we want to be. Wear your make up like a weapon. Make pretend, make pretend.
6. IN MEMORY OF MORVEN
(Look ahead with forward eyes), and it all stood still for us. (It's either that or run and hide.)
So still in fact, that our planted feet coasted backward on circumstance you'd never fathom.
I've taken my cue, passed through countless masks, spit years of plans and watched them all fall throught.
Your eyes like mortar, made of looks that can kill. Reborn, but not alive. A want for strength we lacked in former lives.
Put it on.
Put it on.
Look away, we look the same.
A calendar has less time than I do.
This was all due to expire in a past life, and funny how it followed me here with all the same voices, cautions, smiles and fears.
I've spread myself too thin again. I've hollowed out logic looking for explainations and found nothing but my own universe to dwell in again, and I'm not so sure I've gotten any wiser with age.
7. PATIENCE AND PRUDENCE
These are new days with old stories so let's wash the same denial in simlar patterns, because the emotions have become mere background noise.
Please take the apple from your eye.
We're blinded by desire.
Hey, when were you this tall? Memory serves us not at all.
"To understand me, you'll have to swallow a world." Or maybe your words.
Either way we're up to no good, rewriting our lives way more than we should, and only loving each other cause we've never been sure that we could. (You can't control our hearts.)
You can't control a heart that's impossible to touch and as such I've thrown out regret, yet may have thought about it a little too much.
You find that setting standards is less like revision and more like preparation. So much like what we've heard and what we've seen. So far from what we want and what we mean.
8. FROZEN BY TRAGEDY
(instrumental)
9. FIGURE EIGHT
I'll gladly force my hands through hearts on nights like this when I've talked my way out of time and spent my life sleeping on idle threats.
Catch as catch can't.
Spent my life sleeping on idle threats.
For a target covers more than a few lost hours and some more small debts.
Forward thinking through bad dreams of worse names and months of entertaining childish games.
Act your age or act alone.
Too many scars to put up with another glass house and toss errant stones. Leaving one satisfies another.
A key in lock mentality kills another history
10. REQUIESCAT
A blessed hand to cover the cursed mouth born of faith when tiptoeing around flights of fancy informs sonic acrobatics.
An esoteric word for what never held true; a complicated rite forcing an answer through.
These are prayers for a sense left for dead or an elegy on the end of a life I once led. Learning that we inhabit a bedtime story, prophets whisper to fools.
Footbound and adrift and losing a game for which we've written the rules. (Rip my heart to pieces.)
And it's an ironic twist of fate, (scartter them to the wind.) this bit of hypocritical fare, (rip my heart to pieces.) when we're taught to look passed the suitable answers, (scatter them to the wind.) watch them disolve and not even care.
Caught cutting through the running tide.
Bleeding out; portrayed way past a prime tripping over words and playing tricks on time.
Eastern standard time of the dead.
Wear clocks round our necks like tombstones.
Fuck not lest ye be fucked.
A point invariably moot when you've outgrown smarts and frustration is your strongest suit.
Keep in mind, it's the wisest man that will always be told to foret his ego for a minute and realize that he can't replace his ass just because he found a crack in it.
(26 years past my prime as if minutes made a difference)And How can we sit so still when it's so hard (Like ostriches with heads in sand we fear our desires.)
So hard to find what you loved (Breathe every breath like it wasn't a countdown) to find what you felt in that touch?
(Breathe every breath like it wasn't a countdown)
And How can I go searching for these days when I'm standing among them?
Rhetorical wisdom is a locked door a lost chance and all you'll ever see a statement betrayed like your worst enemy.
Breathe every breath like it wasn't a countdown. Can't change a mind lost to the hours held so dear, can't force your way out of a dream purchased with fear.
2. A WEEKEND SPENT DISTANCE
Patchwork existence. (Running in circles) A button martyr matrimony. (Running in circles is the easiest way)
Scene screeen Survival. (Running in circles) An exodus assumed. (Running in circles is the easiest way)
Who's got the monopoly (of where you're going) on sincerity? (of where you've been.) We can scream for sin or for days about what we lose and what we've won, but in the end you're only as good as what you've done.
Forget the phony fuck that thinks with an ass instead of a head; it's a game left for losers in a scene they've already fled.
I can't believe for you, I've already left so much behind.
Eleven years of fists and words to keep the right state of mind, and it's easy to lose when you've forgotten the game.
Whether it's sanity or love you've lost it all amounts to the same, it's the same color with a different face.
Self-selected exiled running in the same old race.
3. PRETTY PICTURE OF A BROKEN FACE
(What have you become?) If the pictures were the past I'd tear them all up into shreds.
I've found my way back now.
If our exchange of words was free I'd type another to the wind.(Just the prettiest picture of a broken face) I've found my way back there.
One last wish for one lasting goodbye. (with a third of the appeal and never worth the chase.)
I've found my way back there. No one here will miss you when you're gone. (with a third of the appeal and never worth the chase.)
No No No No. Make your selection. No no no no. Another one will come along.
No point in steering now, the brakes are out and the search for interests or boy meets girl is the counterculture clock ticking out a song that paints the shadow of this world.
The lights are brighter when the game is new, and though I've tried, I wish I could say the same for you.
Don't forget that when you cease to see things the way you want to, it's the least important people that come back to haunt you.
4. A TALE FOR THE AGES
Give me back one last chance to drink from the sky.
I'm sick of chasing echoes and fighting a lost cause just to let words fly. (Fell short of real.)
Once there was so much left to what was real but these days I'll never bet my hands on the first thing you feel. (Stuck in a world, with no in's or out's.)
Eight generations passed on one last curse, one last chance to shake free one million nights passed losing sense once so easy to see.
"I've left too many lives behind," she cries.
Stronger words for a fading will when new language only serves to cut even deeper still, and pennies for your thoughts are simply wasted on chance, and we are twisting through years without looking ahead.
5. DISSERTATION:14
The silence we've found always prouder than the voice you lost.
Clawing through words dropped from lips content with a last breath like a heretic.
Finding a dream of salvation; a hint of reality too involved for imagination.
This will be a tribute to the years we've spent building so much nothing, as homage to hour hands lost to empty sounds.
The loudest days hiding hopeless eyes; looking for a lifeline but only breaking ties.
We are so many lifetimes away from the one we want to be. Take your place and play the part.
We are so many lifetimes away from the one we want to be. Wear your make up like a weapon. Make pretend, make pretend.
6. IN MEMORY OF MORVEN
(Look ahead with forward eyes), and it all stood still for us. (It's either that or run and hide.)
So still in fact, that our planted feet coasted backward on circumstance you'd never fathom.
I've taken my cue, passed through countless masks, spit years of plans and watched them all fall throught.
Your eyes like mortar, made of looks that can kill. Reborn, but not alive. A want for strength we lacked in former lives.
Put it on.
Put it on.
Look away, we look the same.
A calendar has less time than I do.
This was all due to expire in a past life, and funny how it followed me here with all the same voices, cautions, smiles and fears.
I've spread myself too thin again. I've hollowed out logic looking for explainations and found nothing but my own universe to dwell in again, and I'm not so sure I've gotten any wiser with age.
7. PATIENCE AND PRUDENCE
These are new days with old stories so let's wash the same denial in simlar patterns, because the emotions have become mere background noise.
Please take the apple from your eye.
We're blinded by desire.
Hey, when were you this tall? Memory serves us not at all.
"To understand me, you'll have to swallow a world." Or maybe your words.
Either way we're up to no good, rewriting our lives way more than we should, and only loving each other cause we've never been sure that we could. (You can't control our hearts.)
You can't control a heart that's impossible to touch and as such I've thrown out regret, yet may have thought about it a little too much.
You find that setting standards is less like revision and more like preparation. So much like what we've heard and what we've seen. So far from what we want and what we mean.
8. FROZEN BY TRAGEDY
(instrumental)
9. FIGURE EIGHT
I'll gladly force my hands through hearts on nights like this when I've talked my way out of time and spent my life sleeping on idle threats.
Catch as catch can't.
Spent my life sleeping on idle threats.
For a target covers more than a few lost hours and some more small debts.
Forward thinking through bad dreams of worse names and months of entertaining childish games.
Act your age or act alone.
Too many scars to put up with another glass house and toss errant stones. Leaving one satisfies another.
A key in lock mentality kills another history
10. REQUIESCAT
A blessed hand to cover the cursed mouth born of faith when tiptoeing around flights of fancy informs sonic acrobatics.
An esoteric word for what never held true; a complicated rite forcing an answer through.
These are prayers for a sense left for dead or an elegy on the end of a life I once led. Learning that we inhabit a bedtime story, prophets whisper to fools.
Footbound and adrift and losing a game for which we've written the rules. (Rip my heart to pieces.)
And it's an ironic twist of fate, (scartter them to the wind.) this bit of hypocritical fare, (rip my heart to pieces.) when we're taught to look passed the suitable answers, (scatter them to the wind.) watch them disolve and not even care.
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