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So... it... kicks off with a sense of camaraderie facing global anxiety.
Eventually, this home feels more foreign than anywhere else I've been.
And I could blame it on the local bars.
Yeah, I could blame it on the downtown scene.
Could blame it on the desperation for external validation.
Oh, yeah.
The doom and gloom become stagnation,
Or egocentric masturbation.
Is there even a distinction between these twisted inhibitions?
Is this survival or our fall?
Lost and forgotten like Stonewall?
Can we congratulate ourselves because we see cracks on the walls?
A wide selection of chaos to focus on.
And yet I get fixated on a fantasy that is forlorn.
Now I am just a ghost
Haunting the living room where you supplement yourselves.
Consumed by the bitterness over the times that I got close
To having what you have:
Love right upon your grasp
Contained within the walls of a space that you all share.
Don't mind my lonesome hums.
Don’t mind my lonesome hums.
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2. |
Inferno to Ember (1312)
05:08
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Absurd not to expect condemnation
When the whole damn world is witnessing
Numerous casualties from white supremacist state-sanctioned murders again.
Despite mutually distancing at our homes, people are still being slain.
Tragic to think of pawns in denial
With a sense of self-importance manipulated by capital forces
In a sick rigged game leading to heads of states using them for lumber.
But not nearly as tragic as the countless losses in the inferno to ember.
One thing I greatly fear is that the rage in our hearts will subside with the passing of time.
But now there’s nothing but time, so the wrath remains while living’s a crime.
Explain to me why white liberal media
Feels so comfortable sharing footage of a human being’s murder
While shifting focus away from their full life beyond their skin.
Capitalizing on communal trauma instead of providing aid to the mourning.
Right now, always and forever: Black Lives Matter.
High pressure. Fuck the police.
It’s not up to ballots or time.
We’re here by vicious design.
So it should be no surprise
That our lords of genocide
Whether to the left or right
Clearly don’t care to cease
This gory profitable plight.
Some days I just can’t shake
That we have already lost.
But that’s the type of self-defeat
The fascists are counting on.
So it’s disgraceful to continue
Standing idly by these colonial spawns.
And I will never let this country
Drown the rage in my heart
Now that I’ve seen their crosshairs aimed
At every resistant head.
And resistance is defined by those
Who shoot dissenters dead
In a cycle of illusions
We’re perpetually fed.
So bite the head off
Of every overseer.
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Vi Viana Gainesville, Florida
DIY is dead, time to be a "singer-songwriter" babyyyyy.
Folky songs that get harsh and heavy sometiimes, mostly.
(she/her).
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