Circle Takes The Square все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

This path that we walk upon is the collection of points that the rain has drawn. The rhythm section of the storm.
By the moonlight to the gateposts of the forest, in the snowlight, we are bound for the portal of the pines.
Grey as famine, on this path against our will by our main sails we're bound to the tempest until the sea is still.
Which compulsion will this miniature death tributize?
From behind the walls of my broken coughing tent, a formal vision,
but I allude to my helpless passion for the obtuse- when will this night end?
When the lightning finally tears through the mast of our sinking ship.
All the hopes of the slaves are betrayed by the grates.

Shaking she's fearing that inside it's growing.

Why can't they see? (feeding on the sunrise)
Why can't they see?
They're sprouting, why can't they see?
They've taken their root in her womb.
Feeding on the sunrise.
Picking my veins like a murderess murderous warmth take hold of me.

The demons swallowed treasures, replaced hymns with evil deeds scribed in chicken scratch compositions in the black halls beneath this filthy city. Laced with shit, this love affair all black hearts, and tragic heights. Keep on listening to our sanguine symphony. We'll keep conducting the color of midnight. When the muse whispers her forked tongue lulls me to sleep.
You must be mistaken my darling. This is not the prelude to a kiss, this is obsession, void of aesthetics, lacking compassion, a disclaimer to the self, you sought your god in the tempest of self severed strings hammered out in the key of X.

This is the new cutting edge. Sixth sense limitations dragging me down. Your transcendence of nothing has fueled the flames of our choir. This is my therapy, singing the praises of razor wire.

Embrace the sweet sound of self destruction.

Wield words like knives and razor wire. A kiss goodbye is a kiss of death. Conducting our ballad with seven broken strings. A sound so sanguine until our ears bleed. Orchestrating until we bleed.

Surface, through the circuits, breaker breaker. Someone's calling but there's no one on the line. Positive, negative, negative, Breaker breaker. These wires are live, these wires are merging with the circuits, Breaker, breaker. Broken fuses spark, lighting, illuminating their blacked out eyes. Fading out...Father son and holy ghost...you can't find us in the dark. You can't save us when wires are cut. Houses haunted hurt the most. Vulnerability is created and defined by the night. Fall is getting closer. Ruled by the moon. Now that we're hiding in the darkness holding hands, now as we pray, as we are prey. Lead the way. Don't leave me bound here in desire, lead the way forever is too long to wait.
Time keeps on pulling the seconds away, preaching abandonment, intentions remain to embrace the sweet impossible. Time succumbs to the rhythm of a slowly fading pulse. Lights from flashlights flash on breakers, loose connections connected tight. Symmetry described by the minds intent. Eleven birds of prey take flight. Asymmetrical equations, borne to lack diurnal sight. Brown eyes begging her consent. White old woman of the night:

Right behind the lightening staring past the rain. Running down the red clay. Time succumbs to the rhythm of a slowly fading pulse...

"All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here."
-Dante, The Inferno

Bring forth the Light,
To raze colonies
In a single cleansing breath.
Don't sleep, my queen;
The sun rises one less time

Chanting in the darkness for just one taste. Screaming bloody mary until my mirror breaks. Cheating on reason for just one glimpse of the disease riding on your lips.
Lay reason to waste.Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Breaking into you. Is like waking, waking the dead.

Burning inside you. Is like waking, waking the dead.

Burning inside you. As you bury, bury your dead.

Whispers invoke the artists of this tragically
seemless, ill fated tapestry, blistered fingers
are tending their loom. She collects the strands
to braid into life. Logging the weft of an
ageless, woven infinity, countless raw fibers are
clawing the frame. A woman's work is never done,
but the final stitch has got to come, and so three
witches contend to slice the very last thread

Hide the petals underneath that bedroom floorboard and they will wither without fail or success.
Put the people in the hollow box they crafted, bolt the doors and watch them perish.
Its a cautious descent, so polite and pensive at first.
But the only truth is change, have patience(every hundredth year, a single breath and then its over...)
Even if only for a minute for a minute its over. Even if only for a minute.
So brave in the face of all those roots that ruin, to stand so tall when in fact in ruins.
To face that corner of the box and dive in, just the sound alone of its humble breath.

Mouth the words to deny, deny the symptoms, as 'oh yeah I'm doing fine', as I've found a most endearing psychosis. Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. Desperate as I am I just can't strip bear and bleed the only purity I've known. But I lay with reason. Found logic conceived in a walk with skin. I lay with reason producing these monsters. Underpainted catcalls as in temptation. yeah there's a key to be in, but there's no shade, no shade to blame. Waterfalls in a cool grey, and the struggle is colored grey this day. The caw of crows fills up the picture plane. Our picture plane is veiled in central neutral grey. Absinthe to slight the pain. This world's this worst case color scheme. Streaks of oil stain, stained the road he crawled on homeward. Oh yeah, oh yeah he killed the switch with some unwieldy gauge, absence and light remain. I lay with reason found logic and reap in a walk with sin. El sueno razon produce monstruos. When does this dream end? Now I've missed another whole season, I've missed the fall, clearly its fallen on this land as fields once green are ochre now. This is no dream. Trees have turned to skeleton, roots teased and knotted just below the surface skin of ground. Stitched between the earth and the sky struggling to hold it down. Sometimes to realize you have to lose track of sight blurring my vision makes it clear the tiny moving parts make up the whole. The image is clear, a tower is built of my own pride, I cry in the shade that it offers, the only shelter I've known. When does this dream end? This is no dream. This is the waking living breathing caricature of a memory. Shamelessly I cave in to temptation of creation. But still my only thrill is empty sidewalks, silent streets. The caw of crows fills up the picture plane. This is your picture plain in central neutral grey. This world's this worst case color scheme. Streaks of oil stain, stained the road he crawled on homeward. Oh yeah, oh yeah he killed the switch with some unwieldy gauge, absence and light remain. Life is lowly anonymity, in death a noble pose, a Marat David. Tell me who wouldn't give their lives for such a soap box to die behind. Life is lowly, lowly anonymity. In the space of a smile I found sleep. As in sorrow, so shall ye reap, as in reason so shall ye sleep. Reap the promised end to the struggle. Reap every point on our linear path. Reap the smiles in time we borrow, every harvest relies on the last. Reap the promising song of the sparrow, that they learned from the birth of the sea. Silenced by the threnody of the crows. Reap the fallen fruit of the dogwood tree. But I witnessed in all this silence one souls definition of beauty. in a backlit smile so temporary. A facade so rich with evil history. Cast in direct opposition set to overwhelm his moment to shine and sleep came out on top of what was borrowed, and found all that beauty to be still. Every breath as in sorrow, reap the promised end to this path, but every image that we borrow, every harvest depends on the past. Subdivide in factions our linear forever, we subdivide our waking hours to sleep. While guilty eyes turn toward a porchlight, enlightenment is losing sight. Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. In this low light town when my shift begins the streets reflecting yellow, yellow, yellow in the vacancy that overwhelms the red, red, red, your vehicle the color of expansion. "Open up." the latter just a thought to thrill me "knock knock knock" the latter just a thought to thrill me. "Red" is a four letter word. Four letter invitation. Now my head is locked in the direction of the sun... Life is lowly anonymity, in death a noble pose, a Marat David. Tell me who wouldn't give their lives for such a soap box to leave behind. Life is lowly, lowly anonymity. I know its all been done before, I want to do it again. I want to do it again.
Kill the switch.
This night our journey's through the dark.
Kill the switch, a welcome comatose, tonight w

That scent says more in memory.
Do I dare disturb universe, tempted to mend the pathways atrophied in dead end corners impose upon my egoist neurology. All stares fixed on her black widow fingertips.
Dare I disturb the universe, recall that life in a singe verse, measured out and then forsaken of skin? A faint digression(repression) Come hither, you gracious no-name. Come hither, you bold disguise. replaced by precious memoirs that since has enticed memory of nails painted so prettily. senses allured distracting... unaware of the death sentence stricken on your palm like cross hairs disguised as a lifeline, diminished abruptly one verse at a lifetime.
Ad hoc, ad hoc, trezore-in memory that scent says more.
Ad hoc, ad hoc, anno domini-that scent says more in memory.
Analytical observation of what resulted from a clotted vein raises the questions of your friends and your lovers. Tell us the truth were you gutted from the inside, torn apart, spread anew? Tell us the truth. Under the hemorrhaging- which will hurt worse? when you applied the brakes.
Antithesis, antithesis. As savage the romance as our next day stiff necks. A spiders grace in a flick of your wrist.
Antithesis, antithesis. In memory. Savage our refusal to look left, when it felt so right. Come hither! That scent says more in memory, that scent works to disguise the stench of a crash and burn. I抣l be the first one to admit, in a minute there is time. I indulged in your existence and dissolved like a gun smoke caress on your silken web. Rise like the flames in a scene from the end.

Rejoice, rejoice a noble birth, a prince is born.
Behold the birth of violence, beasts of fang and feather cry for our concrete rapture,
and if we beg to be put down, unto us the most inspired storm
A princess ravaged by her prince behold: the birth of sex and distance,
two frail corpses both were they, his eyes were the first to stray...
every tree held fast the earth to sky
concrete replaces every branch and twig as they were frayed upon the birth of ambition.
The heavens filled our gilded vessel with poison tears, before we drink, I propose a toast, a final prayer.

["Reality is not always probable, or likely." -Jorge Luis Borges]

At your doorstep
Cloaked in negative space
First frost aches
To lay its claim

At the threshold

Fallow fields have fallen, sallow, sallow
Victim to encryption, disclosing an unspoken plea.
And the stars sang of the scorpion sun. to impale impaling impaled who for mercy begged for drought and blight.
to impale impaling impaled.
planted in the shadow of a new found impermanence
our new pyramids fashioned in cloth and the stars sang of the
scorpion sun.