1. |
Solar Return
02:08
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2. |
Thyme Flowers
06:23
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3. |
Rose Quartz & Fentanyl
07:10
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Death perception, death perception,
All clairvoyant interceptions
Are receptive to incepted
Past conceptions past conception.
Descent. Eyes. Flickering lights. Tunneling sight.
Is it in the subtle way that you put it
I can't seem to hear things right?
If it's getting out of frame, don't push it.
Flickering incandescent lights.
Eyes. Descent. Eyes. Flickering lights.
Even in a phantom haze your pieces,
A burning corpus pyre, bright,
Reflect their own material rays they're fleeced with,
Eschewing pure of crystal light.
Just before your spirit body's flayed it releases
The only orb that knows which path is the right one to take.
Eyes. Flickering lights. Descent. Eyes. Tunneling sight.
[Abandon notions of the past without attributing a temporal sequence.
Cut off your mental associations regarding the future, without anticipation]
Death perception, death perception,
All clairvoyant interceptions
Are receptive to incepted
Past conceptions past conception.
If the future stays just look it:
Always weakened by its might.
If your vision's frayed you took it
For granted ever having sight.
Eyes. Flickering lights. Descent. Eyes.
Descent.
Call me back.
Followed home to the field
(Whispers)
(I can feel them all around me)
And all of this is just
Breathing forth,
Whispering to my soul.
I won't forget them,
(In the moonlight)
Following through the void.
We all know.
And I've been a good boy.
I stood waiting
On the precipice of death,
On the precipice of this,
On the echoed reminisence of my friends.
Their shattered souls,
Their wicked lies,
Their chain-link fences.
We had it improvised.
(We had all the answers
and all the drugs)
Just sitting there.
I can't do it any more.
I can't stand it.
I can't take it anymore.
(Can't do it anymore)
I gave up on you forever ago.
(sckus ydobyreve)
I don't want it.
I don't want anything.
How does it feel?
How does it feel to want?
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4. |
Buddha Playing Tennis
04:44
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5. |
Commute
07:54
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Body, Regret
Passion, Anger
Nature, Habit
Revelation, Nirvana
Illness, Fertility
Chasm, Fear
Hunger, Schizophrenia
Love, Plastic
Martyr, Salt
Foliage, Vision
Power, Isolation
Freedom
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6. |
Sleep Unrequited
02:47
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7. |
Carousel
05:15
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Though I try I will never get off of this ride.
Seek to find the extent of this truth we've imbibe.
(Fold it up. Circle us.)
Though I try.
(Fold it up. Circle us.)
Fight or flight, send birds spiraling out of the sky.
Horses' eyes: may they run round until they die,
(Fold it up. Circle us.)
Season's dry as the Earth is shaped just like a pie.
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8. |
Cereal
03:25
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9. |
Hard to Tell
05:17
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They're after another day.
They're after a passing thought.
There's electricity inside of me, foaming out.
Nobody can see it.
I've been dying to be captured;
The shadow of death around every corner.
Jagged lights in its eyes.
It's telling me to smile and laugh.
Here's you medicine.
Wicked holiness, stride with me now.
Wide widths. Why or without--
I don't know.
It's really hard to tell anymore.
Every letter is fading eyes:
Vowels in the tone of an alpha better.
Ladders form, misconstructed as mirrored memes.
A higher source of scarcity only with what?
I pay my dues
I will pay for all of them,
And a thing about wonderment and mystery:
I see that sparkle in you eyes.
Is it hard to tell me you stopped listening to those voices long ago?
It's hard to tell...
They're after another day.
They're after a passing thought.
Closed eyes, greiving.
Don't close the door on me like that!
The Archon tightens its grip on her,
A tempestuous tribute to the sky.
Leaves turn upside-down,
They leave their doors unlooked.
Behind every history: a curse
(vetus cuomodo sanies significatur)
Great urges and loud warnings.
No feeling of admonishment though.
Actually, it's hard to tell.
Every letter is fading eyes:
Vowels in the tone of a gamma delta.
You owe for everything.
Why and without, I know.
Bounty of what is already wonderful,
Spelled by protons,
Guests of barking out blithely via quarks.
Why do anything?
For lust? For mystery?
To say your prayers?
Is it hard to tell them to me?
A tuned monotony of greater causes,
A synaptic, totalitarian demiurge,
As simple as it comes, lumbers horribly.
Its stench puts you to sleep.
Its eyes swallow all light in an impermeable darkness.
Jokes about its enforcement of reality can't be overstated.
You kick in its maw.
Your soul screams to be let out,
But it's just hard to tell if any noise comes out at all.
Falling down, down and in circular motions:
An endless acceleration
Into the bowels of a fractal oblivion.
To be flushed from the surf of its bile to its shores,
Dense with primordial foam,
Is thereto evaporate and become rain
One last time, and never again;
One last time and never again thereafter.
Endless circumstances, parching God
Are reminded by their own entropy.
Their sending messages in bottles.
Their resemblance is a baby down the Nile,
But the Queen might not see it.
It's just hard to tell.
A tuned monotony of greater causes.
The refined order of militaries:
Violence and destruction,
As much as zealots clamor to see.
Why does society desensitize itself?
What needs to be shown so sorely
That each day should be born
To rot out their eyes with the jelly of blue light
And millions of videos
Where everyone gets fucked and dies?
Either you're still waiting for the punchline
Or you missed the beat.
I guess it's hard to tell.
Falling down, down and in circular motions.
All knowledge whittled away
To little more than vain delusions,
A funneled web of illusion.
Hallucinations in which the living memory of the ego
Can no longer forget its inadequacies,
And we sit,
And we glare at them,
Seeing enough to believe,
Perceiving enough to be,
Leaving rarely enough we're trapped.
You get more dopamine being safe.
You get more dope on your phone than in the street.
Why am I here?
Why but for all of these reasons this place exists?
I used to think I knew,
But it's just hard to tell...
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10. |
Swinging on Pivots
04:57
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aleph om Detroit, Michigan
Electronic music, sound designer, producer, composer, and multi-instrumentalist from Detroit.
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