°Ë»ö ¹æ¹ý   
Á¦¸ñ: Before Braille
°¡¼ö: Before Braille


SECRET NO.7
We feel just like
Two criminals
With unknown crimes
It¡¯s not your fault
It¡¯s always mine.


THE SPANISH DAGGER
Well stop cashing me in for a thin line
You¡¯re right on track to know what it feels like to lose more than you¡¯ve ever gained
Charges pending further investigation
You¡¯ve got to expect that you¡¯re falling from graces
Rehearsing all your persona will need when you¡¯re front-page fighting (aim) for your dignity
I almost taste the the irony
How fiction replaces history
Use daunted glow to light your page

You say those feelings of doubt will never cut across your mouth
I know that Socrates and impurities are getting you down
You¡¯ll take all they¡¯ve got to get your fill
Your time is running out
You¡¯re getting carried away because no one cares about your fame
I see the dagger in your name
Deny your roots for future rain, for future reign

Add one more kill to raise your worth
It¡¯s so sad, cause it¡¯s all the truth you have
Trade breath for gold
There¡¯s no Armageddon when banks are there to relieve you
Why prevent yourself to take wealth from someone else
Dare to incite yourself when you¡¯re your only foe
You¡¯re carried away
Nothing¡¯s real about your fame
I can see you drown in your own wake
So pale, so thin you¡¯d float away
I see you trying so hard
So no one will ever take your place when you feel the dagger brush your face
Well¡¦ I deny myself what I can take when I can wait¡¦and expect the same

Incriminated, your teeth still shine over the suffering
Deceiving trade, but the blade will shine.

CINEMA SPINE
Just a little bit of feeling in your stories and I¡¯m ready rearing to go
Just a little bit of grieving in the words you relate and I¡¯m alright

Crash land, insist, can¡¯t exist on frailty
I always crash land, resist, exaggerated authority

Just a little bit of bleeding in your stories and I¡¯d be really wanting to know- how they treat internal bleeding when they¡¯re dying to be the future glow

All attacks come two by two
We¡¯ve been gliding, so far just spinning our wheels

When all the bodies fall do they face the sky
To choose which star to make it home
When all the bodies fall is it finally quiet
Or does their last heartbeat echo till they¡¯re gold

Crash land, resist, re-define a dire need
Crash land, in this unassuming reality

When all the bodies fall will they shun the light
And dust their feet on brittle stone
And all this time is wasted on an assembly line
To keep things plain enough to be sold

Tell me something to ease my worry, tell me something to calm me down
Tell me something to prove your story, a shot of sodium pentathol
Tell me something that¡¯s not too late to deny¡¦
Why would anybody treat your right

We already know how the actors feel.

MIRACLE MILE
I¡¯m ready to blow
It¡¯s not my fault
Don¡¯t waste a four-leaf clover
Good happens to the owner
Just wait, when the leaves fall
They go below your faults

Now you¡¯re just boring me to death
I¡¯ve got a catacomb underneath the same place I lay my head
I¡¯ve gotta bury them blind and then control what they find
I¡¯m hanging on a thread
You know I¡¯m ready to blow like I¡¯ve told you I would

Out of nothing you find your own authority
Cleanse the water to send your holy blessings
I¡¯m flying solo, I¡¯m falling so low, where do we go
Out of nothing you find your own authority
Forbidden honor will go as far as atrophy
I¡¯m flying solo
I¡¯ll go

Now you¡¯re just boring me to death
I¡¯ve got a cataract focused on a shaky conscience at best (shaky guest)
I¡¯ve got to make up my mind and try to make up some time
I¡¯m hanging on a thread

You know I¡¯m ready to blow, but not quite yet
You know I¡¯m ready to fold, can¡¯t count my cards yet
You know I¡¯m ready to forget all we¡¯ve been through
You know I¡¯m ready for you

The shaken are desperate for new sounds on old ground
To bury reflections, infections from strong hands in weak glands
And when they¡¯re awakened their vision will fade

It aint a bit of my fau



°¡¼ö
Á¦¸ñ
Á¤È®ÇÑ °¡¼ö,Á¦¸ñÀÌ ÇÊ¿äÇÒ ¼ö ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù.

Àα⠰¡»ç TOP 100  ¿¬µµº° Àα⠰¡»ç  ¶óµð¿À ¹æ¼Û µè±â
Copyright ¨Ï ÁÁÀº °¡»ç °Ë»ö, 2024 (°¡¿ä,ÆË¼Û °¡»ç°Ë»ö)