1. |
parking complex
07:34
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Exit signs glare
Only echoes to hear
Lonely, without any cheer
It is dim and austere
Everywhere
In this parking complex
Nothing is fast
In this parking complex
At least everything was built to last
A prayer to disappear
Nowhere to fear
Still lonely, for all I hold dear
My empty eyes stare
Nowhere
In this parking complex
It's helplessly vast
In this parking complex
Endless corridors of masts
On this grey concrete mould
I feel no age old
Like love yet to be sold
I’m fixed in this fold
Comfortably cold
In this parking complex
My shadow has been cast
In this parking complex
I’m forever lost in the past
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2. |
an empty house
03:52
|
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A sorry need for something; unknown
Scraping along
Fabricated out of nothing; alone
A constant consuming to create something more
Than a costume; gone wrong
And forever weighted to the floor
Of an empty house
Limbs rasping at the door
Of an empty house
Weeds grasping at the boards
Of an empty house
Rain pouring through the panes
Of an empty house
An empty house
|
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3. |
poland
03:00
|
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Flat fields
And craning pines
Full of killed kings
Depending on the residue of design
Still see them sleeping
In the spectral creeks
With the livid bodies
And the grosbeaks
Lifting themselves up from their melancholy streams
Lifting themselves up to survive in our dreams
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4. |
chimneys, like steeples
07:50
|
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it was on
the first snow
in the city's park
that through december's
receding dark
you glistened
it was under
my worry
and dead treetops
beneath bare branches
and the tower clock
you listened
it was then
now years ago
that we would start
clenching tight body parts
wishing never to stop
it was while
walking by
the Christmas lights
on that unfamiliar night
that decided
the rest of my life
the chimneys seemed like steeples
in the streetlamp's stark scene
across the block
you left me waiting
with a rough heart
like bark
you left me wanting
your pale skin
like chalk
waiting for you like a train
to depart
watching for you in the streetlamp's stark
i'm wading through the iris of your wide eyes
and writhing for you to be all mine
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5. |
possession
02:28
|
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6. |
begin to end
03:04
|
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stand by the side of a road
cold wind blows through me
grey clouds flow
vague hopes sketch
my vacant home
windows bleak
reflections show
ugly and shallow
it took weeks to feel
safe in the sun
when i was too weak
to speak to anyone
another moment dies behind me
i hear his voice and i see
its shape
all the slow movements which
have brought me this far
in a society of rape
each instant amounts to nothing
more, than the distant noise
of a passing car
this can't continue
our human play of pretend
when every twenty-four hours
timid as dawn
begin to end
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twenty-four hours Providence, Rhode Island
twenty-four hours is the gothic and existential rock project of Matt Terry, begun in 2010.
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