1. |
||||
Stagnant strangers romance on crowded pathways below
Admiring the stage's glistening coat
The reflection on the sill
Giving the cheekbones their due
Praising the worth of porcelain skin
My shades of blonde dancing in the high sun
I gave labor to the grief
To the squinting spectator who drank in the despair
As I tiptoed off the plane of existence and drifted listlessly
Through the velvet blackness of oblivion
I am what I always was
Gleaming and empty
|
||||
2. |
Daedalus (Live)
04:51
|
|||
Conjugate the spilled verbs
Which is best for regret?
Which allows your heavy eyes to sleep?
Where has God gone wrong?
Shake the hand of your deepest fear
Was it not your hero who saw when you wept?
Could you call if you began to weep?
Where has God gone wrong?
Her glassy eyes still feel the warmth
So carry on to seas of bliss
And heal your heart with those you miss
Weighed down by stone doves
Hand in hand through dooms of love
|
||||
3. |
Vertigo (Live)
14:05
|
|||
Destined as the servant to the night
Where your moon dreams of the dirt and the sharp tongue of your zealous will
Is only congruent with the salt in your mouth
And the approaching eulogy of the world
Lost in the patterns of youth and the ghost of your aches comes back to haunt you
And the forging of change makes no difference
Memories fly through the mask of your life shielding you from time
The years that birthed the shell that you gained
Hunched over in apathetic grief with a disregard for steps except the one taken back
Perched up on a rope crafted in smoke
A sword wielding death that buried your hope
Focusing on light through the blinds
A slave to reality under a monarch in the sky
Lost in the patterns of youth where the windows shine brightly back at you
|
||||
4. |
Language Games (Live)
05:51
|
|||
We're still laughing over lore.
Still talking about a stream of smoke in the head of a shelter tank, swimmingly bored.
Swimming in monotony. Swimming in ponds where our knees scrape the bottom.
And still, we swallow the surface.
We brought our boredom to the lights.
Spoiled the city
Blind to the ocean
Deaf to the heavens.
Carving a shut in symphony with memory's masturbation
I've talked it out
Doomed to be a spoiled child
A pupil in the eyes of forever
I knit the fire
I stared into the mirror
A prisoner to the past
A ghost to the present
Put down your glass
Don't raise a toast to your slaving bloodline now
Come to life
Walk the roads to Judah tonight
|
||||
5. |
Glint (Live)
11:19
|
|||
Listening to muffled footsteps
Of those brushing
Reaching grasses
Seeing the last letters of my name
Faded and shy
Imagining us clasping hands in holiday
Imagining you growing older
Growing somehow more beautiful
Surrounded by your children
And children’s children
The midnight blue of your calmness
Evening chamomile
Eyes as a morning rosewater
I’m shrinking into your gown
Tearing the pink linen of your belly
Burying into your abdomen
And sewing the seam of your skin
|
||||
6. |
Baby Blue (Live)
08:49
|
|||
I woke in a sweat from a desirous fever in the pocket of yesteryear
Where faults have fallen to some
I begged not to carry the corpse
To not be a queer fish in unforgiving hearts
To not be buried in native clay and preserved for cynicism
I wish to be a pauper in kind eyes
To feel the gravel beneath my knees
To wake in a home
God had sent my calamity into a deep space from which not even in dreams,
Could I ever imagine my escape
|
||||
7. |
The Pecan Tree (Live)
11:45
|
|||
Drooling red from my eyes to meet the bitter sun that shines past into light
Setting fire to curtains in hope that you're dreaming
Destroying the tomb of memories from your life
In the room full of family, but couldn't find one
In the hallways lit up brightly, but couldn't find myself
I laid drunk on the concrete on the day of your birth in
Celebration of all you were worth
I am my father's son
I am no one
I cannot love
It's in my blood
|
||||
8. |
Dream House (Live)
09:22
|
|||
Hindered by sober restlessness
Submitting to the amber crutch
The theme in my aching prose
Fantasizing the sight of Manhattan
That pour of a bitter red being that escapes a thin frame
The rebirth of mutual love
The slipping on gloves to lay tenderly
I'm dying
Is it blissful?
It's like a dream
I want to dream
|
If you like Deafheaven, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp