1. |
Surge
04:00
|
|||
|
Flow through,
down all the mountain of lies you've made.
Wear away,
at all of the stones just like you stroke my face.
Calm to a surge in the blink of a storm,
send it out to the ocean and forget.
Pretend that it's not real.
Like me,
let it flow away, just a background noise.
To your,
symphony of lies, orchestra of dogs.
Piano to forte, swipe of a hand
through the grand halls it flows,
in control.
You've forgotten but you're in control of me,
I am the bed you flow through,
the orchestra that you conduct.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
Wind blows
through this house that we call home,
and it takes away the smell of guilt
you took what was left
of my innocence
and it lies dead at the foot of my bed
falsified this feeling of happiness
you have fallen from grace
your words
still echo through the canyons
in my mind
You're still in my head
and you make me feel like led
in this upside down tree of lies
I'm so afraid that I've lost you
so much that I can't sleep at night
I can't describe how I feel
perhaps I'm just lost
but it's been several years now
so cut off the memories that
haunt you today
Reclaim the things
you've left behind
I can't change what's happened
but I can say that I am lost
I can't change what's happened
but I can say that I am lost.
|
||||
3. |
LNS
02:40
|
|||
|
Your red lips of wine
take me further away
than any piece of mind
ever could
but you don't love me that way.
Your red lips of wine
take me further away
than any piece of mind
ever could
but you don't love me that way.
Coffee stained table cloths
blow in the wind
ghosts of good times passed
and when you left
Coffee stained table cloths
blow in the wind
ghosts of good times passed
and when you left
Crooked strung picture frames
line the walls
of all the empty corridors
we called home
|
||||
4. |
Holes In A Bag
02:06
|
|||
|
There's something in the way that you stand there,
there's something in the way that you say my name
there's something in the way that you stand there
don't say my name
You're picking at the seams
trying to prove that nothing's as it seems
You're picking at the seams
There is no medicine,
your skin will keep on peeling.
You're like the smoke that's in my lungs
I blow you out but that feeling stays inside
I'll stay away from you
but I can't
take away the taste
|
||||
True North Sunshine Coast, Australia
We are a 5 piece sad band from the Sunshine Coast.
RIP
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