1. |
Apparitions
01:38
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[Instrumental]
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2. |
Fractal Cage
04:12
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Restless heart syndrome
Tell me, what’s your prescription?
Existential’s never been so detrimental to me.
Swallowing the fist of fate and gagging out our questions
Begging answers from the soundless black that’s staring into me
If you’re nothing, give us something
Scratch your plans into our heads and let us down easy
Numbing empty, my mind has bruised enough and
I want nothing more than to sleep your creeping claws away
I’ve made my bed of mirrors
Gazed with glazed eyes at a fogged infinity
Safe but insecure in a prone position
Never understanding
Reflection. Ageless question.
What’s beyond my fractal cage?
Repetition, replication of self, myself, my selves.
Dust’s begun to settle as on vapid, ancient shelves.
Silence.
If I am honest with me
I may just be afraid to leave
Tightening it’s grip,
the mystery may make up my mind momentarily.
A hairline fracture; oh God, just take me while I dream.
My throat is twisting
My stomachs burning
The weight of second
guessing may be
burying me
My chest is seizing
My body’s shaking
The fear of a forever may very well be
Murdering me (murdering potential)
Murdering me (satiate, medicate, limitate). Put to death privately.
Mortal duplicity
This riddle’s lost its whimsy
Janus-faced and somber it comes pounding on the walls.
“Deal with me or die” - it’s whisper pours into the air
and washes over me absorbing into every pore
“So you’re nothing, or you're something?
On one hand my mind can’t comprehend eternity.
On the other, if I cease to exist
the vacuum of a soulless void is meaningless and menacing.”
This bed of mirrors
Has served its purpose
but nobody can rest into infinity
We need to confront
the space beyond comfort.
So bursting forth through shattered glass I wrestle with
Reality. (Real sincerity)
(Logically, Methodically, Theologically)
Will joy come in the mourning?
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3. |
A Narcissist's Proposal
02:47
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[Spotlight]
I’ve been thinking about me and the way I complete you.
You’re my angel, and I guess that makes me God.
So let’s make our bed in heaven and escape this home for dogs.
But do you know how to serve me, my cute little trophy?
With all I’ve conquered, how could you upkeep it at all?
Don’t fret my amber glow, we’ll gather all the slaves I know…
but only if you promise me your porcelain complexion.
I am just afraid you won’t make me happy.
Now, I can understand the joy you are feeling.
Really, I can. Truly, I can.
You don’t have to answer now. Why even bother?
We all know the answer is yes, yes, yes…
Yes, I can do you the honor of being husband and guide; leading in stride.
Do you think…no, never mind. Don’t hurt yourself now.
Seriously, don’t even speak.
You perfect ten…combine with me, you’ll see we equal 21.
I can’t think of a better vessel to birth my legacy.
The pride you’ll feel…now, I’m just being real…think on your greatest accomplishment and
times that by at least twenty-five and then you’ll know how it feels to be the luckiest God-damned bride.
‘Til death do us part, I will own your heart.
‘Til death do us part, I will own you.
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4. |
The Great Reset
04:29
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Place fear aside. You were never meant to hide from your life.
(Subdivide)
Every step feels like I’m sinking -
tugged at from below or pressed down from the weight of regrets in my head.
My work, my life: stagnation.
All these lost intentions and passions; I’ve chosen not to think about it.
On the road, back to the cell I call home,
My legs begin to change their course through the poorest part of town.
As I float on, keeping cold to the suffering around me,
a woman I’ve known before boldly steps up to me.
“Please, although we’ve barely spoken, my needs are great…”
I hear myself say “No, not now, another time, it’s getting late.”
Her hand grabs onto me (bones lock in place)
Eyes swivel back in their sockets
Motionless, open mouth (she starts to sing)
Prophecy
“The great reset is here (the God Machines).
You will be torn into pieces.
Defragmented and then (reconstructed).
Harvested, harvested, harvested, harvested.”
Tearing myself from her grip, I sprint to the cage I call home.
Her story’s one that I’ve been told. A lunatic’s dream. It’s lies. It’s old.
Safely settled in my window seat, I’m startled by a sound.
Peering out, I spot a monolith that’s rising from the ground.
(A colossus of clockwork - ebony black and cerulean veins. My heart stops beating.)
[A disembodied whisper:]
"Pain will subside. You must (will) learn time’s never on your side."
Now: a drop of bass like thunder as wireframe is laid across the sky, the land, my body, everything.
Layer by layer I am skinned and saved into a memory, as numbers flash by my binary eyes.
Binary eyes!
Maybe this is just what I want.
Maybe this is just what I need.
Maybe this was just meant to be.
Maybe this is exactly what I need.
Maybe this is exactly what I needed.
Reboot, rebirth, reborn.
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5. |
En Attendant Godot
03:43
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(Present Day)
It’s forty-eight after and I’m running out of words.
I feel the pressure of two-thousand days expanding in my skull.
Skin splitting - creation pouring out.
Frantic, we flail to keep it off the ground
(2000 Days Earlier)
No one has ever seen a play quite like this one before.
It’s our responsibility to pen the draft; the score.
We’ll drop their jaws en masse, we’ll being the desert to their door;
the antichrist, the ocean floor.
(Present Day)
Crack the stage and kill the child in me.
Burn the script and cast the ashes o’er the sea.
(2000 Days Earlier)
The day has finally come, and I’m so proud of what we’ve accomplished here.
The depths of what we’ve dug are an abscessed testament to creative spirit.
So, let’s not waste a minute more my friends; I think my muse is suffocating!
(Present Day)
Commit. Commit. You finish what you start. Betrayer in our midst.
Commit. Submit. If I had heart to spare, I’d make you choke on it.
Tell me again – the clock stopped?
Tick tock tick tock – Well, time doesn’t.
This charade ends – tonight. Now.
‘Cause I’d murder this myself just to not let you
(2000 Days Earlier)
Bloody nose, dripping prose. Brutal, poetic as we go.
“There’s this ferocity in honesty to capture, so…
maybe we’ll take our time. Make sure it’s perfect. Take it slow.”
“If you think that’s best. You’d be the one to know.”
(Present Day)
Crack the stage and kill the child in me.
Douse the limelight and tear the curtains free.
Burn the script and cast the ashes o’er the sea.
Cut!
My art is dead.
End scene unseen.
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6. |
To Lift The Sun
04:24
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I thought I knew myself.
But I never did imagine myself pulling the sun down on your head.
The dreams you've had!
Am I responsible for every single nightmare?
Am I the channel for what's flowing down your cheek?
Do I even need to ask?
Do I really have to ask?
I didn't think so.
Oh fickle love.
You're sticks, I'm stones, we'd break all our own bones if you would give us half a chance at storybook romance.
I think if this is the last song we'll ever sing for strength, or pain, or pleasure...well, let's make it a good one.
Come on, the worst is over. Let's make it a good one.
If we don't try this now, if we don't do it loud, this river's where we drown.
Between your eyes, your skin, your kiss, your tears and your voice - I've rediscovered what it means to be a decent person.
And though I may never forgive myself for what you felt inside, I'll carve it deep into my chest:
"She's the reason you're alive."
And we may sing this song a thousand times over, but if we remember the words we'll always have a hand to hold.
If you can lift the sun, I'll never leave your side.
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Gentlemen Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Gentlemen is a Deathcore project featuring Louis Snyder, Guitarist of Riparian and Christopher Cronce, Vocalist of :48
After.
They met in 2010 when Chris auditioned for a now defunct old band of Louis's. Despite that bands breakup shortly after their auditions, the two knew they wanted to create something together.
Their album, Fractal Cage, is the visceral musical product of that meeting.
... more
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