HASTE LYRICS

1. With All The Pride And Dignity Of A Drowning Swimmer

Dissamble me, examine every piece and then tear it apart again. My progress doesn't meet your standards, crucified a martyr. You talk so much I can't understand how those shots from your mouth can even sound fair. It happens time and time again is this all you do? So we listen to you, "It's softer, they've sold out." The judge's wait... here's to you. "It's over, they're played out." Do we listen to you because you're asking the question? You talk so much I can't understand how these shots from your mouth can even sound fair. It happens time and time again is this all you do?

2. Evidence Of Wasted Ink

Should we raise our voices just to break the silence with no substance? Bearing into this page with the weight of a thousand restless words. I'm holding on to something long since dead it's keeping me from living. I need to know just how it feels to let this go. When it all comes down you are closer to the edge than you thought you would be. It's said and done out there at the end still without you here. So content with watching, tearing down and forgetting what we are given. Given everything, not content with anything. Tied down by situations at an end and left with compromise. Compromising standards, we're only half of what we should be. Start facing circumstances, stop filling space with nothingness we're losing. Losing what we've worked for and satisfied with a dead end. It's still true. I've grown tired of the give and take, want someone who can give me everything I need. When it all comes down you are closer to the edge than you thought you would be. It's said and done out there at the end still without you here.

3. The Rescued

The smokestacks breathe like spitting out the truth. White lines disguised as fuel consumed. Under gray-blue skies we're simple machines, marks matched with greatness but tempting fate. Lines, faces, are drawn in the sand. It's better not to understand and turn your back on the city. Wine, it tastes like it did yesterday and finally you've found a way of turning your back on everything. Don't ever swing on three and two. Finding safe escape routes and saying the right things. The choice you make still affects me. We cling to this tension just to feel anything, leaving flesh for the effort we've made. Time to embrace. Time won't erase these guilty looks from your eyes. There is no disguise good enough to hide lines that are drawn in the sand. You've finally found a way. Don't ever, however. Written down in numbers and measured in waves add up to a sense of accomplishment.

4. Houdini Has Lost His Key

City streets will bleed through and I'm holding out for just whatever. Some things never come. Every sure thing every loop, and nothing to oppose. It's all in how you read between the lines. The lines are long, the lines have gone. It's all in how you sleep at night. At ease, at ease with yourself to be crucified or crowned. Making out a list of certain deaths and acrobast. A kind of call to arms. What it takes to follow through, I wonder if you'll know? At ease, at ease with yourself to be crucified or crowned. Everything for you, repeat and start again. Between every line the story will begin. Everything for you, repeat and start again. At ease, at ease with yourself to be crucified or crowned.

5. The Death Of Stars Like The Sun

The chain of events, leading up to this, has come from some unseen direction. When all that you have is what you shared, then at once you find it is gone. Go back and forth between two lines and don't leave a square inch of soil unturned. Laws of motion will kick in and my heart will leave my throat. Turn backwards, but it feels just like progress as I bear my namesake to the ground once agian. Forced to live with this. Split seconds are still moments. A daily poison that you survive on. The warm breath of life escapes us all in time but there is "always" and "still holding on." Go back and forth between two lines and don't leave a square inch of soil unturned. Laws of motion will kick in and my heart will leave my throat. Turn backwards, but it feels just like progress as I bear my namesake to the ground. Each story has two sides, here is how the victim's ends. Your parting, not how you had planned. A legacy handed down and a lifetime brought to an end. Every split second is still a moment. Our last meeting playing out...the end. Time heals all wounds except this one.

6. Room One Thirty Four

Missed every detail (just move on) but now the wait is up. I'm lying and I'm begging that it is done this time. (Could it be done this time?) "Engine" still turning, why cant we shut this off? (And it seems...) My patience is running thin. Now it seem that this is more than just our Friday nights. All familiar things left so far behind. Even if it all comes down to bittersweet good-byes, it feels like we are close, for at lesat tonight. Our temporary blueprint (is useless) is bathed in nicotine. It took a lot of mileage just to come this far (yet we travel on). No precognition, and don't make any plans (and it seems...) to walk away from this. (...that here we will stay.) Now it seems that this is more than just our Friday nights. And familiar things left so far behind. Even if it all comes down to bittersweet good-byes, it feels like we are close, for at least tonight. Holding my breath at every turn. Anticipating the end of premature regrets. Now it seems that this is more than just our Friday nights. All familiar things left so far behind. Even if it all comes down to bittersweet good-byes, it feels like we are close, for at least tonight.

7. Aspartame

Can we get back to the time when everything was simple then? "The truth is..." she said. "I thought we'd won." Each night we lay in desperation. Always think of the right words when our conversation is through. Your words on that day, I remember them so well. Don't say it if it isn't worth it. The needle hasn't reached the forties since you've stopped coming 'round. I feel sick and I don't feel anything. The bottom is the best company I've found. Steady hands. Can you remember losing out but who has won? A two-year winter and moving on. Since you stopped coming 'round. Can we get back to the time when everything was simple then? Can we get back to the time? "The truth is..." she said.

8. God Reclaims His Throne

Baptized by kilowatts and ohms, what's left is waiting. The embers rise like incense carry praryers for what is next to come. Carry me on silver wings to meet with vulcan. To be forged anew and rise again above arms of fire. Holding this common language in our hands. Find solace in the landscape. The best laid plans carry the weight of an entire season's hope. The city waits with shattered skyline for its missing hero. To lay low those beneath and cast aside the restraints of hopless inertia as winter's chill fades below me. Now we are silent, holding this common language in our hands. Find solace in the landscape. Watching, waiting, holding on to Victory's kiss. Like alloys we shape, bending ourselves to our needs. Bend with the hammer to the anvil of self. The smithy screams with exertion as the flames drive out impurities. Bend the hammer to the anvil of self. The soul screams with recreation bathed in the furnace of ascension. Winter's chill fades below me.

9. Stutter

Now it evens out between black and white. A victim of choice, so matter of factly said: "I'm working on the best two out of three." In half-time we move, lines blurring fact and fiction. We merely improvise. You wonder about the truth and which version's mine. What's wrong with losing myself in things I might have said to you? Think about it now and all those things I should have said, have trouble getting through. Just speak my peace and turn away. Somewhere it evens out betweeen wrong and right. If given the chance, feet first she would jump right in. Her heart will burn to ashes either way. In half-time we move, lines blurring fact and fiction. We merely improvise. You wonder about the truth and which version's mine. What's wrong with losing myself in things I might have said to you? Think about it now and all those things I should have said, have trouble getting through. Feeling less remembered. Losing myself in things I might have said to you. You never seemed to care at all. Just speak my peace and turn away.

10. Force Is Always An Option

We plant our teeth, as we are conditioned, firmly in our tongues. Rather than speak, exposing weakness, as our mouths fill up. I have a talent for destroying. When I touch it breaks. Now arrange the peices, malicious thoughts are motivation. Our bonds became our anchors and the water rises still. Broadcasting guilt, exposing weakness, when we wound it's real. Holding hope for to morrow, as we are conditioned, until tomorrow slips. I have a talent for destroying. When I touch it breaks. Now arrange the pieces, malicious thoughts are motivation. Our bonds became our anchors and the water rises still. Look at yourself. Take your tongue out of my mouth and speak for yourself. Cast off your anchors as the water rises still. Words on this page lie between us used, faded and worn. You will never hear what I'm saying. No matter how I scream.

11. Revenge Tastes Like Blood And Broken Teeth

Parade your black-heart, a Judas kiss laced with nicotine. With a chance to know you, some parts are best left unseen. Slapped in the face with the will it takes to love someone. A confidant or a brother, betrayal comes in many forms. Say good-bye with three words and pray this won't happen again. If you can live with yourself that doesn't mean you are innocent or guilty. "The suffering of Christ washes us clean." Give of yourself not completely. Selfish denail, thoughts words cannot embrace. Trading passion for passion and holding onto the thread that keeps us in place. Still masquerading the acts a wine stain won't erase. Wrap it up as a mistake, pretend your first time is the last. Say good-bye with three words and pray this won't happen again. If you can live with yourself, that doesn't mean you are innocent or guilty. "The suffering of Christ washes us clean." Give of yourself not completely. The deepest scars are made by the push of familiar blades. Constructing an enem with the most familiar things. However complicated we can make the exchange. Say good-bye with three words and pray this won't happen again. The deepest scars are made by the most familiar blades.







HASTE LYRICS