1. |
Outliers
01:17
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2. |
City's Spire
02:42
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Oceans and insects
Everything pure
Culture in fragments
Growing mature
It will be fine but
How can you be sure
City in pieces
Will they find a cure
Oh how the tables have turned
Papers we've burned
Lessons we've learned
Oh how the sun tends to see
It tends to the sea
Rifts between you and me
Oh and the lightning makes fire
The heat it goes higher
This endless futile satire
Oh but the world's so inspired
It yearns for desire
Slowly building its spire
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3. |
Freeroamers
02:30
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4. |
Confirmation
02:54
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Awaiting confirmation
An indication of a valid response
It's not about what we do
Or who we choose to run into
Play the game don't run away
It doesn't matter what they say
Changing your notation
To something safer
Just in case it gets found
It's not about what you see
Or who you really want to be
Play the game don't run away
It doesn't matter anyway
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5. |
Undetermined Depth
02:24
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6. |
What we've done
02:43
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What have we done
This is the last of us
Look into the sun
This has only just begun
A colossal feat
An endless repeat
Run through the street
Won't you just take a seat
When I say I'm strong
I hope I'm not wrong
If I don't belong
Will they take my songs?
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7. |
Icarus
02:02
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8. |
Serpentine
03:26
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Serpentine, this quarantine screams
What is left but turpentine
No more help from benzedrine
Relish in your broken thoughts
Your wants are no longer enough
Simultaneously it's toxic
Metaphorically it's noxious
Magazine, the pages are yet to be seen
Words they will mean what they mean
What's the color blue or green
If words are not meant to be said
Then what is it I'll say instead
Play the tape don't turn away
It doesn't matter anyway
Tambourine, angels demons everything
Nature's art is to be seen
What's the points in anything
Presently I have a purpose
Nothing sacred nothing worthless
Tell me is the writing worth it
Should I ignore it on purpose
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9. |
Known depth
02:33
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10. |
Serpentine Variants
03:21
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Serpentine, this quarantine screams
What is left but turpentine
No more help from benzedrine
Relish in your broken thoughts
Your wants are no longer enough
Simultaneously it's toxic
Metaphorically it's noxious
Magazine, the pages are yet to be seen
Words they will mean what they mean
What's the color blue or green
If words are not meant to be said
Then what is it I'll say instead
Play the tape don't turn away
It doesn't matter anyway
Nicotine, angels demons everything
Nature's art is to be seen
What's the points in anything
Presently I have a purpose
Nothing sacred nothing worthless
Tell me is the writing worth it
Should I ignore it on purpose
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