Echoes Below

Crowded boom in the echoless room. A thought inside. Fraying somewhat inside defeated dreams. A restless heart. A new decay to drift into open air. Pennies and cents. Nobody dies. If anybody lives, they live alone. There's no one else to pick up the pieces. There's no one at home. Likes to show a little hand. Likes this special company. Waits until they're alone. Waits for the kill. You'll only hear about it later after he makes his leave. He makes his money from you.......you just have to be careful

Returning to the fray, so wretched, times are up before we sleep. Decked out like a nuclear zombie. I made my way to the atom bomb. I leave the driving to someone else's hands. I couldn't bring myself to look away but I fell in love with the atom bomb. That's why I made my way to the atom bomb. Passion is fermented in the arms of change. They can only watch you sleep at night with a sense of distress. Seeing is believing but dreams are forbidden. Actions are well hidden. Sooner or later we'll all fall in love for the atom bomb. Don't ask me why but we need a new tomorrow. Changes, time, instance of distance. A disaster zone made only for us. That's why I made my way to the atom bomb. Your love allows me to live. But the distance of December hours make dreams impossible. Those dreams of putting the finger on the trigger take on another life when remembering everything. I watch you sleep at night wishing to be stuck in the same little zone locked in time. But that...

In a change of space, a change of place. A dream I'd always wanted. But old feelings linger in the midst of a perennial fate. The deadlines are coming much too soon. And nobody has what they wanted. The week's get shorter and everything dries up. The domestic bliss or something more than this. Every now and then, there's something lurking over there. Everything else just dreams with a magical return. Still looking over pictures and dreaming of another tomorrow. You can only see how we are and dreaming into the stage of open hands. Old songs and radio know where we are headed. Nothing is taken for granted. I'm just holding out on the stage of another tomorrow. Nobody has this thing taken for granted. It's just something that bears repeating. No matter how old it gets. You can sit there and tell me how it's done as if everything around you is so easy. Expanding waistlines and communicative arts. You're not backwards in going forwards. Into the sea or into the ...

I don't want to be barbaric/I just want to cut it up

"I think the simplest explanation is, is that I had these experiences, that they were real and that they took place outside of time."

Features and faces, drawn out of time. TV news stations, radio setlists, burning images through the flames. Dances in echoes, jumping from windows, an evergrowing set of circumstances I will never understand. Cut the clues and clean yourself in, dreaming of a better tomorrow. Loving relationships, long cycles through time. Feeding the frenzy that burns from within. Falling asleep under the blankets of time. You damage me so much, I feel as though I haven't had time for her at all. A constant staring into the abyss and wondering where I go when you're not here. It's called the new apprehension. Cutting from deadlines and delayed messages, one hopeless sentence that will wash me away. Keep feeling as inept and featureless through distant memories that fall by the wayside. Clue myself in with the terms that'll haunt me for the rest of my life. You're a big boy now, you should know these things. Spend my time criticising the universal complaint as I'm part of ...

The yearning never stops Increasingly worn through I'm never satisfied until Your arms will soothe me I dream a thousand kisses Lullabies as you lay me to sleep The future in your hands We wrap ourselves with care In disjointed thoughts My love splinters in form The heart that I have broken Is the heart I'm keen to mend Fading across the oceans Landmarks in the architecture Faltering in the skies at night I take pleasure in your delight