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Panic Sessions(Bonus Track)
There is a statue on a throne, with a crack that runs down it's crown, and over its face, through it's heart, but at its feet we lay our hopes and dreams. We trust it with our direction as it sends us blindly into the world. We don't even ask why we have to be blind at all. Blind to all we see. We're just throwing our sight at objects, and hoping for some understanding. The sad stories of sadder men. Come on, give me something worthwhile to believe in. The sad stories of sadder men. I feel my soul again, and I won't go back to dead. She can kiss the cheek of a statue. She can shudder at how cold it tastes. He breaks his knuckles as he prays. He can only pray in violent ways. So far away from any sense of a heart beat, so we suckle at the mouth if anything with a confident lung. On their tongue I taste lies, and in their words I smell smoke. Shine a light through their gut and reveal all our hopes. They have our dreams on their breath. And coming from them it smells a lot like shit.
I want to scrape more than the surface of what we mean. I want to mean more than the surface of what you see. In the hope that our true purpose can surface, and we can be sure in the face of change.
And when the only light I have is the white from my bones, I'll let my madness project out into the night.