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Coalesce




Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  C  →  Coalesce  →  Дискография  →  002: A Safe Place

Альбом Coalesce


002: A Safe Place (2000)
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Rape this identity, for you canvas.
Hatred and misconception, your mediums.
You paint credibility away.
Mark I may, but stained, I'm not.
In a rage of green venom is spat.
To uphold what order?
P.C. mentality, come belittle me.
The only barrier to compassion, the one that you uphold.
Politics on a kindergarten level.
Expression has no place here.
Indignities.
I have no grasp on this.
What wasn't said.
If we blind our eyes the blood still runs red.
We possess nothing other than a lust for peace.
So now we are liable to learn from history.
With human factor, learn we must.
Fear revolution.
Violence, our most basic function.
Why should we hide from instinct if there is pain to end?
Self- proclaimed lovers.
Would they condemn us the same?
What wasn't said.
If we deafen our ears, the screams still echo on.
If there is such a thing as content in apathy, then this you have achieved.
Desensitized consumers, veto these dollar votes.
Fear is no excuse, not anymore.

. . .


So shallow, not even an infant could drown within this compassion but,
I feel as if I've drowned just the same.
But rather from my ignorance that unconditional love might exist.
I forgot the numbness.
I forgot the frustration that makes up my daily routine of just getting by.
I am just barely getting by emotionally.
Judgment. Disappointment.
A lack of patience for me.
This is not security, but such a pretty package.
The guise is broken as the truth rears it's ugly head unto me.
A drunken soul, I'm conscious again.
I've weakened from my stupor for the last time.
So content caressed in rejection.
For it's all that love has ever led to.
Once again, the dying man lays down the law for this peon.
It's his last grasp at control.
A control that he lost in infidelity...
from today to you I'm dead as an order accepting son.
Your searching and searching,
but your family isn't at the bottom of any bottle.
You're smoking us away.
You're choking on your own.
No place to hide other than my tears.
They still give me away.
Do all things end like this?
Must all things end like this?
So shallow.
I take everything with a grain of salt.

. . .


The embodiment of innocence stripped from her own territory.
America's child has passed so close to freedom.
Now closest with her maker, the ten lifetimes of terror were experienced by this frail body.
Where have our children gone?
They are not to be found amongst this tabloid filth over kill,
an embarrassing lack of responsibility,
a vicious cycle of soap opera drama pettiness.
No known beginning and no end in sight,
this must be our darkest hour when gossip takes priority over our young.
Are we this shallow?
Are we this apathetic?
Are we this bored?
Prove me wrong.
The child is mine, now that she has been thrown away.
The interest is gone, so now the others suffer.
They suffer unto a grotesque attention span deficit monster.
They turned our play yards into graveyards.
So we cried every night for a week,
squeezing as much concern allowed between each sports update.
You cried every night for a week, yet I still mourn.
Have you forgotten their faces?
Patience is a virtue I won't instate.
I must see the faces of every abductee.
I must taste the pain.
Remind me of our system atrocities.
Don't let me forget. Don't let me forget.
Why haven't we drawn a line?
Instead, we feed and shelter them.
We support the evil and pay their debts.
We've paid their debts.
Why can't we win?

. . .


A salty fist in my chest.
Please no explanation, its your time to be angry now.
Could I possibly be so selfish as to take that away?
To compare myself.
I'm so miserably pathetic and helpless again.
I'm so little lying next to you, in this cold sweat of mine.
My sympathizing, however honest, still a belittlement.
I can't heal a thing.
What god is responsible.
I can only hold your hand.
Live. Dehydrated, nothing pacified.
You can disassociate yourself.
Tools of your trade, survival.
It's the only safe place left anymore.
But can you tell me, are you here now?
Is my touch touching you, or that tool of yours?
I saved all the debt for you, you're still in debt.
You're broken wings I have taken on to mend
and right now I'd do the same onto you if it would change a thing.
If I could cripple your mind again.
If it were my place.
Grant her the wings, grant her the gift to cope.
You leave her no choice than to steal her birthright.
Children don't cry tears of guilt for the sins of their predators.

. . .


What makes you think you deserve the sediment of my truth?
You should expect me to be so honest.
I owe you nothing, no blue prints for growth.
I can barely begin to tackle myself.
A friend is a foreign term, good, better, best, intangible.
Please, one at a time.
It's all they can handle.
Please let me blend as well.
It's always too much.
Cover at the repercussions of honesty.
It means nothing yet still the world hanging on every word.
Violence is no motive to communicate.
Come unto me in all your glory.
All consuming in this childish pride.
Your blows so soothing.
Is this proof?
This does not cancel any options.
Broken idols, so comical.
I won't accept anything less than absence of prostituted smiles.

. . .


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