1. |
No Alternative
04:34
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Hands tied by the thread of time
Nothing progressed and nothing possessed
Crucified on the field of being
To the cross-section of form in formlessness
I will plod through the swamp of self
No more options, no alternative
70.000 fathoms deep
And reality's a rift that's got to give
I will trudge
Stitchings invisible to the touch
In its clutch
I must not succumb to the inkling it won't budge
Meandering lines converge
Always searching and always aware
A chain formed by the circles of life
And there's got to be a way out of this despair
Elsewhere
Nowhere
Got to be a way out this reality so threadbare
Elsewhere
Nowhere
The warp and weft is simply not enough not to tear
Hands tied
To the thread
Of time
Crucified
To the
Cross-section
Of self
In infinite mind
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2. |
Pigeon Stoner
03:17
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Painting over every wall
You consider to be imperfect
Making just a stroke into art
With the world as an audience to reject
Expressions that no one could know
For ideas outdated long ago
And a talent that's just for show
How come no one brought up
That it was time to quit?
Ever tried to think about
Who's gonna clap at your wit?
Your weak
Technique
Bespeaks
Intruige
But maybe it's to exhaust
Anyone who'd say you're lost
Pretending all the work you've done
Is in an effort to reflect
Every colour choice, so apart,
Without an honest compliment to inspect
Let us wait
And watch the details be fantasies
I'll wait
Let us see
The emerging inconsistencies
You'll see
Painting over every wall
You consider to be imperfect
Making just a stroke into art
With the world as an audience to reject
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3. |
The Great Shrink
04:01
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A reoccurring dream of never having time
If you can breath, then why can't I?
A lack of will to stop a boredom most juvenile
My teeth are melting when I smile with eminence
I shook my head and told the clouds that I was done
Tempted to reach for what was gone
A mystery that never told why it was great
My words are losing all their weight and relevance
Sounds and visions blend as one
Nothing's hidden from the sun
Waking up and left undone
A sense of dread
On my deathbed
They all bled it out
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4. |
Fog Tongue
03:42
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At once it's gone
Inhale the smokescreen, the dying breath of this machinery
Then gone again
As secrets spill out a fractured family group portrait
Up in the air
From alveolar dead space
Into thin air
So atomized
In wreaths of mind
To learn the fumes of contentment are the fumes of despair
Dead end
An illusion
Once felt, once gone
Dead end
Blank eyes staring
Right back at you
You, eat your words 'til content
Eat your words 'til content
You, eat your words 'til you're full
Dead end,
All around you
Running out of steam
At once it's gone
I tried to reach, but like shadows on the wall, nothing took
Then gone again
Let's watch the cloud of unknowing shapeshift and shroud the sky
Up in the air
In cyclical violence
Into thin air
No trace, no end
In wreaths of mind
The embers waned but a heavy cloud will forever hang
At once it's gone, it's gone
Then gone again, once more
Up in the air, always
Into thin air, thin air
In wreaths of perception
Now you see it, now you don't
It's an illusion
Once felt, once gone
Dead end
Blank eyes staring
Right back at you
You, eat your words 'til content
Eat your words 'til content
You, eat your words 'til you're full
Dead end,
All inside you
Is all out of steam
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5. |
Marm
02:46
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Tell me how it's not the same
For what it's worth
I was out, when all the preachers came
Holding hands with concrete walls,
A scenery that won't aim high
Towers born on every field,
Without a soul
What a waste of efforts bare of blame
Twisting tongues with visions dead,
What do you seek with pristine eyes?
A love for life made in lead
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6. |
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Carved in stone, and still it left me petrified
How it deprived what I'm inclined
The taste of my love is degraded to a chore
If I push it more, will you wage my war?
Whatever has been mentioned is meant to apply
But is that why it all seems awry?
I can tell you my idea for a price
It might suffice, with a sacrifice
I have found myself connected to this earth
It's a newfound breath, a brittle death
The self-appointed king's ego appears to bloom
In a concrete womb, a waiting room
What have you ever done
To grant me all this inspiration?
Shed the cast which we forged
Through imitating innovation
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Arm Denmark
We are Arm and we mean to do harm!
Vi er Arm, og vi er her for at lave larm!
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