1. |
Sunk
02:35
|
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Allāhu Akbar
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2. |
Trough
04:23
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I can't stop waiting,
At the tops of buildings,
For you to send me my acceptance letter to university.
But I couldn't care less,
If I never see your handwriting;
It always makes me tremble,
So how am I untrustworthy?
Nous sommes cela,
Nous sommes cela.
You will spend your nights writing my stories;
Everything is you.
You do that to yourself.
But how am I supposed to continue with nothing?
I can't believe you,
When you talk so fast.
Il fait faux,
Parce-que toi et moi,
Nous sommes cela,
Nous sommes cela.
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3. |
Bunk
01:20
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4. |
Dugout
06:30
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|
They left alone,
After shaving with cold water.
Caught a plane to Tokyo;
One was your daughter.
They left together,
But no one else followed.
Heard they saw much better,
And looked for what's hollow.
Once all the new was found,
They kissed the ground,
Rubbing their hands with something.
There are pictures of laughing and blushing,
Still.
Satiringly beautiful in contradictions,
Taken down a few pegs every week,
Like grass mowed by proletarian husbands and wives,
So the pavement is visible at all times.
Never laundered and never thrown away,
And brought to infinity as with life and death.
Never changing, yet impossibly complacent,
With never moving.
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5. |
Trunk
03:32
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6. |
Foxhole
04:46
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|
Wind cutting into my eyes,
That is you.
Where is it now?
Sinking into mud up to your knees,
That is me.
I'd hoped you knew.
Why are we here alone,
When we came together?
My legs are shaking,
Breathing heavy.
Had to feel my way around it,
I lost my fingers.
Why is it now?
I've forgotten where I am,
The sky turned pink.
I wish I'd not,
I wish I'd never.
Why are we here alone,
When we came together?
My legs were shaking,
I was breathing heavily,
When I started walking.
Toward a future of nothing,
At a pace very cowardly.
Shuffling backward,
I missed a lot.
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7. |
Junk
02:22
|
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8. |
|
|||
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When will it end?
Make it stop.
The end is just the beginning.
Make it start again,
Or so I've read,
Words so empty.
The cyclical motion's enchanting,
I've seen it all before.
How can I know that this means anything?
How can I know anything at all?
How can I know that this is anything?
How can I know, I know, I know so...
Quiet down,
I can't hear myself think,
But say whatever you want,
Nothing's new to me.
I have not been there,
And nothing still means nothing.
The abyss still lingers,
So it goes.
How can I know that this means anything?
How can I know anything at all?
How can I know that this is anything?
How can I know, I know, I know so...
How can I know that this means anything?
How can I know, I know, I know so little?
(Fuck me...)
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