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Thursday
Thursday


Информация
Откуда New Brunswick, New Jersey, United States
Жанры Post-punk
Experimental Rock
Годы 1997—н.в.
Лейблы Island Records
Victory Records
Epitaph Records
Eyeball Records
См. также United Nations
Сайт Website
Состав
Geoff Rickly
Tom Keeley
Tim Payne
Tucker Rule
Steve Pedulla
Andrew Everding
Бывшие участники
Bill Henderson



Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  T  →  Thursday  →  Дискография  →  War All The Time

Альбом Thursday


War All The Time (16.09.2003)
16.09.2003
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Ný batterí (Japanese bonus track)
. . .



Falling from the top for your life
still like parachutes
windows go rushing by.
people inside,
dressed for the funeral in black and white.
These ties strangle our necks, hanging in the closet,
found in the cubicle;
without a name, just numbers, on the resumé stored in the mainframe, marked for
delete.

please take these hands
throw them in the river,
wash away the things they never held
please take these hands,
throw me in the river,
dont let me drown before the workday ends.

lack of time! lack of time!

and we're up to our necks,
drowning in the seconds,
it's just in your morning commute
lost in a desert way sleep
we'll not run awake in our parents beds,
tossing and turning.
tomorrow we'll get up
drive to work,
single file
with everyday
just like the last.
waiting for the right to start, is it always just always ahead of the curve?

please take these hands
throw them in the river,
wash away the things they never held
please take these hands,
throw me in the river,
dont let me drown before the workday ends.

just keep making copies
of copies
of copies
when will it end?

it'll never end,
'til it gets so bad
that the ink fills in our fingerprints
and the silouhette of your own face becomes the black cloud of war
and even in our dreams we're so afraid the way we'll offset who we are
all those breaths that you took have now been cancelled in your lungs.
last night my teeth fell out like typewriter keys
and all the monuments and sky scrapers burn down themselves

and save!

save our ship
the anchor is part of the desk
we can't cut free,
the water is flooding the decks
the memo said through colors
computers spark like flares
i can see them.
they don't touch me,
touch me.

please someone,
teach me how to swim.
please, dont let me drown,

. . .



In the veins of the ultraviolet light,
Phosphor is starting a fire,
Shooting up in the iodine;
It's turning on.

Rupture the wall around my heart.
I feel so lost, I've been shaking.
You can't save me
(forget what the doctor said).
Every bird in mid-flight
Is calling out your name before it hits the window
And it sings the rapture.

Without a second opinion the Chemicals saturate to counteract the code.
Through the double helix we are twisting
(Too scared to let this go).
Someone call the head nurse.
She's coming to the capitol
To wrap us up and throw us in the dirt
With a dream that's turning off.

Rupture the wall around my heart.
I feel so lost, I've been shaking.
You can't save me
(forget what the doctor said).
Every bird in mid-flight
Is calling out your name before it hits the window
And sings the rapture

We are coming to the capitol.
The distance between us will rupture.
In our hearts the disease will touch us.

Love,
Now its too late
To turn this off.

Alone is all we are,
Even when we we feel this close,
It's just a lie we believe...

These are the words that escape from our lungs,
Rupture the wall
Built around my heart.
I've been shaking.
You can't save me,
I'm turning off.

We can't
Find a way
Out of this moment.

. . .



lights out on Division St.
and all the hate that rises
through the cracks in the pavement
as the temperature falls
(this is where it hits the ground).

lights out on Division St.
I'm repeating 'goodbye'
to the memories,
(the fever that will not break.)

the night is pouring down,
it's not enought to put this out.
I'll burn up before I wake up
on Division St.

this is serious.
this is serious.
if this is serious I'll hide my heart in dark parades.

lights out on Division St.
I held you tight
like an empty bottle
but the glass broke
and the poison spilled out of your mouth:

"Hello...Hello... Is anybody there?"
The house turned black
and sat in silence
while a mockingbird sang
"lalalalalala listen to yourself
go on and on as if you spoke to someone else..."

lights out on Division St.
I'm repeating 'goodbye'
to the memories,
(the fever that will not break.)

the night is pouring down,
it's not enought to put this out.
I'll burn up before I wake up
on Division St.

this is serious.
this is serious.
if this is serious I'll hide my heart in dark parades.
to dance between the scissors' blades
without getting cut,

I drew an X on your city's name.
lights out.
black out.
blow out the candle again.
spin the room around.
fall down.
pass out.
get up. I can't keep repeating.

between the footsteps I hear crickets in the tress,
a silent army marching with me through a swarm of bees.
a needle dragged across a record, slowing down.
along Division St. the lights were dying out.

endless rows of houses stretched on for miles and miles and miles... turn the
windows black.

lights out on Division St.
I'm repeating
lights out on Division St

. . .



this is what you see when you look in my direction: incandescent corset straws
tied like wires.
this is how it feels calling out, but no one even hears.

the signals that we send over the air...
over the air...
over the air...
over the air.

when you say my name
i want to split it from your lips and hide like whispers in the rain.
when you say my name
i want to stop it in your lungs and collect all of your blood to put in the
radio.

is this how it feels
when you don't even fit into your own skin and it's getting tighter
everyday and i'm getting smaller.
if i keep holding my breath i'm going to disappear.

when you say my name
i want to split it from your lips and hide like whispers in the rain.
when you say my name
i want to stop it in your lungs and collect all of your blood to put in the
radio.

there is nowhere to hide.
they stole the love from our lives and put the sex on the radio.

there's nowhere to hide.
they stole the love from our lives and put the sex on....

if i keep holding my breath all of this will fade away.
if you keep driving we'll be lying in the rain.
changing the shape
folding like an envelope to keep each other in.
shattered glass, broken lights, and mascara gets washed away by windshield wiper
blades.
say.

when you say my name
i want to split it from your lips and hide like whispers in the rain.
when you say my name
i want to stop it in your lungs and collect all of your blood to put in the
radio.

there is nowhere to hide.
they stole the love from our lives and put the sex on the radio.

. . .



this is a war
we live and the sides are drawn.
we're all wrapped up in fatigues
and they wear us out, wear us out

there is a storm at sea.
if we fly a white flag,
under a black and blue sky,
will the red sun rise?
(the tastes of your kerosene lips burn me up)

(rise) glare from your
enemy sights make me go
blind/blinds
divide the sunlight into thin strips,
the size of a blade,
in this trench that we dig for ourselves.

fourscore and fade.
glare with the enemy heat of the bodies in the bed.
there's no retreat.

This is a war
we live in.
now we're up in arms,
with our heads pressed against the wall and it's wearing thin.

these are the screams
we swallow,
if we fly a white flag
under a black and blue sky...
will the red sun rise?
(the tastes of your kerosene lips burn me up)

this is our war.
administer the pill
before the cell divides
(keep marching--keep fighting)
and we'll both go down like toy soldiers.
threats and picket lines are forming around our beds
and the landmines in our chests will all go off in time.

if we trip
each other into this,
do you think we'll find a way out?
we've synthesized a compound to treat this conscience, it's:

one part loss,
one part no sleep,
one part the gun shot we heard,
one part the screams mistaken for laughter,
one part everything after,
one part love,
one part stepping out of the driving rain,
one part parting ways, in the cold apartment. don't look back,

just keep running down the stairs.
do you hear the footsteps?
can you hear the voices in the traffic,
communiques in the attic?

they say, after time,
all this will heal,
we will rebuild and these broken arms will mend

. . .



three chalk outlines sleep in the dirty street
and in our beds, under the sheets,
they're the halo of guilt hanging around your neck,
next to the rosary you count, falling asleep

and we're praying
these are the symptoms of letting go of all our hope.

since we can't compete with martyred saints,
we'll douse ourselves in gasoline
and hang our bodies from the lampposts
so that our shadows turn into bright lights

'white light, white heat' we'll make
as we're blacking out in the center lane,
(we swerve) to the beat, (spill) all the ink
(no revisions) do you hear the church bells ringing?

wake up!! wake up in an outline and try to speak
with the shattered voice of the lives we lead...
have we slept too long
between the bullet holes in a stained-glass window state?

and we're praying
these are the symptoms of letting go of all our hope.
(when we repent)
and we're praying
(we fall on the page, read in the margins)
we are the symptoms of letting go of all our hope.

someday we'll be complete like modern saints,
baptize our kids in gasoline
and hang our doubts up in cathedrals
so that they turn to faith in the colored sunlight.

'red rain, red rain' we'll make
as we're blacking out in the center lane,
(we swerve) to the beat, (spill) all the ink,
(no revisions) do you hear the church bells ringing?

they ring for you.

we woke up this morning to a sky with no erring
and all the streets are filled with a thousand burning crosses
and what we thought was the sunrise, just passing headlights
still the choir girls sing, 'oh lord, can you save us? oh lord, sing hallelujah'


they are the symptoms of letting go of all our hope...
we're falling asleep with open eyes
falling asleep inside the chapel
falling asleep in chalk outlines

. . .



do you hear the jet plane yawning miles across the sky?
do you hear the garbage truck back down the boulevard, setting off the car
alarms as it passes by?
do you hear the static of one thousand detuned radios?
shut the window, love.
keep the world outside.
I don't want to think about anyone,
but the footsteps are getting louder,
drowning out the sound of the rain as it knocks on the windowsill.
I'm not answering the phone--let it ring.
lately I've been feeling like a falling bomb.
the ground is getting closer
and the sky is falling down.

. . .



Steps Ascend to a loaded gun
the scent of matches hangs in the air(a light flickers out in a heartbeat)
we dont want to see this:
a flash of light thats letting go of an empty bullet case
by the time it hits the ground
its out of reach
let go
the wolves are closing in
theres no room left to make amends
do you remember when wed fly that kite so high
all the time weve wasted, spent fighting
will burn in the fire
our regrets all the time
all the time weve wasted spend fighting
its blood and its running down the stairs
freeze the frame between the gun shot and the hole it makes
a spinning bullets waits in the middle
theres no way to stop it
it will surely hit the mark
you can try to understand
but im giving up
im giving up
the synapse fires
its right in time
im giving up
this should always stay out of reach
i ran down the stairs and into the garden
put both my hands into the soil
in the spring you will bloom
like her heart
through the blouse
in the back of the ambulance
as it turned and turned in the steets(just one more turn wont you come back to
me)
as it turned on its red lights
you were turning into red roses

. . .



standing on the edge of the Palisades' Cliffs
in the shadow the skyline
it seemed very far away
like a lightning rod that couldn't pull the storm from me -

when I was five years old,
my best friend's older brother died.
he fell from these cliffs and the river washed him away,
the current pulled him downstream
and our lives float in the headlines.
so we park these cars
in our parents' garage
to listen to the lullaby
of carbon monoxide:

war all of the time
in the shadow of the New York skyline. we grew up too fast
now we're falling apart
like the ashes of American flags.

if the sun doesn't rise, we'll replace it with an H-bomb explosion.
a painted jail cell
of light in the sky
like three-mile-island
nightmares on TVs that sing us to sleep.

they burn on an on
like an oil field
or a memory of what it felt like
to burn on and on and not just fade away.
all those nights in the basement,
the kids are still screaming,

"on and on and on and on..............."

war all of the time
in the shadow of the New York skyline. we grew up too fast
now we're falling apart
like the ashes of American flags

and we're blowing in the wind.
we don't know where to land
so we kiss like little kids-
we used to be very tall building
but we've been falling for so long.
now your eyes are a sign on the
edge of town,
they offer a welcome,
when you are leaving.

war all of the time
in the shadow of the New York skyline. we grew up too fast
now we're falling apart
like the ashes of American flags

when the pieces fall it's like a last-day parade
and the fires in our streets start to rage
so wave to those people who long to wave back
from the fabric of a flag that sang

"Love all of the time."

War all the time
War all the time
War all the time
All of the time

War all the time
War all the time
War all the time
All of the time
All of the time
All of the time

. . .



the stage is set
to rip the wings from a butterfly.
the stage is set,
the stage is set,
don't forget to breathe,
between the lines

if the whole world dies,
then it's safe
to take the stage.
these graves will stretch like landing strips -
hospitals: all dead museums,

we won't have to be afraid anymore.
the crowd is growing silent
with the gathering storm.

when the curtain falls
and you're caught on the other side
just trying to keep up the act,
we'll lie in the back of black cars,
with the windows rolled up.
joining the procession of emptiness.

if we say these words,
it will be too late to take them back.
so we hold our breath
and fold our hands,
like paper planes
(and we're going to crash).

we don't have to be alone
ever again.
there's a riot in the theater.
someone's standing the aisles,
yelling that murderers are everywhere
and they're lining up,
carving the M in your side.

when the curtain falls
and you're caught on the other side
just trying to keep up the act,
we'll lie in the back of black cars,
with the windows rolled up.
joining the procession of emptiness.

the stage is set
to rip the wings from a butterfly

pull the curtain back.
kill all the houselights.
pin the dress lotus flowers.
the silk is spinning
around and around, with the ceiling fan.

I'm disappearing into the spotlight.
I'm on display,
with the butterfly
and the scarecrow.

with smiles like picket fences,
you tie us all up and leave us outside.

"that voice is silent now, the boat has sunk..."

we're on our own


. . .



in the circuit,
the frequency's breaking up.
the speakers can barely move
this is not a test
tune to the broadcast.
witness the jetlag.
look in the mirror.
adjust the V-hold
shatter the lens.
pull out the shards.
choke on her words.
caught in your throat.

how long can the wheels
maintain a spin,
at this velocity?
on every block, a reminder:
you can't stop this intersection.
at every turn,
dead forests of tenements
rise like antennas.
the miles are adding up and
the days are counting down.
cut the jet black
from my hair before
we're bathed in the dawn
of New Year's Day.

I will change back to myself
in the flame,
we burn like the paper hearts
of dead presidents.
we're too lost,
to lose hope.
maybe the night seems so dark
because the day
is much too bright
for us to see
that we are cured.
(shatter the lens.
pull out the shards).
we are cured
(choke on her words,
caught in your throat).

that's the sound of music from
another room
the piano player
hangs from piano wire
but the player piano
carries on.
sit back and tune to the
broadcast.
this is not a test

shatter the lens.
pull out the shards.
choke on her words.
caught in your throat.
as the language dissolves
and the sentence lists,
a slow alphabet of rain
is whispering,
'aabcttipacbdefg...'
since I replaced the I in live with
an O,
I can't remember who you are...

...but tomorrow I'll be you,
just pick up the phone.
I'm calling from your house,
in your room,
in your name,
lying in your bed,
following your dreams.
I listen to your voice get caught in my throat
as I sing.
'This Is Just A Dream.'

on New Year's day,
we will change back to ourselves.
in the flame
we are cured.

we are cured.


. . .


[Originally by Sigur Ros]

[Original - Icelandic]

heftur með gaddavír í kjaftinum sem blæðir mig
læstur er lokaður inn í búri
dýr nakinn ber á mig
og bankar upp á frelsari
ótaminn setur í ný batterí
og hleður á ný
og hleður á ný
og hleður á ný
og hleður á ný
við tætum tryllt af stað
út í óvissuna þar
til að við rústum öllu og reisum aftur
aftur á ný
aftur á ný
aftur á ný
aftur á bak þar sem við ríðum
aftur með gaddavír
sem rífur upp gamalt gróið sár
er orðinn ryðguð sál
rafmagnið búið
mig langar að skera
og rista sjálfan mig á hol
en þori það ekki
frekar slekk ég á mér
aleinn á ný

[English Translation]

Barbwire Stapled In My Mouth That Bleeds Me
Locked In A Cage
Naked Animals Beat Me
And A Savior Knocks
An Untamed Puts In New Batteries
And Charges Once Again [x4]
We Set Off
Into The Unknow
Until We Destroy Everything And Are Dominant
Once Again [x3]
Once Again In The Back Where We Ride
Again The Barbwire
In My Mouth That Rips Up An Old Healed Wound
Have Become A Rusty Soul
The Electricity Is Gone
I Want To Cut
And Slice Myself To Death
But I Don’t Have The Courage
I Rather Turn Myself Off
I’m Alone Again

. . .


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