1. |
Never is it Enough
05:33
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When all the wild unknowns have been rooted out, when all the deepest
seas are all belly up we still want one last fill of our cup. Just one last fill
of our cup.
But oh still unsatisfied... all the empty calories that fill our minds.
Though we take, we take, we take and lap it all up. Never is it enough.
Never is it enough.
When all that is live and raw has been bleached out. When all of value
we hold has been traded in for its pale counterfeit and only the dry husk
remains. Never is it enough.
Never is it enough.
Though the well has been run dry and all that once flowed is now
contained. We still reach for one last fill of our cup, just one more fill of
our cup. Never is enough. Never is it enough.
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2. |
Return to the Dream
04:56
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Can I return to my dream?
This world feels too confined.
Oh I'd return to my dream
if it weren't for these thin lids
on my eyes.
On such a dark starless night
and on such dry brittle earth,
where am I supposed to go?
Can I return to my dream?
Can't I just return to my dream
and call this ether my home?
I can't return to my dream
and my world feels so confined.
How can we dream with such thin lids
on our eyes?
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3. |
Depths of Our Minds
05:03
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Oh what lies beneath this parchment thin skin?
Little more than rivers of blood and nervousness.
Each beam of light is pregnant with every color in the spectrum. There is potential in everything.
If in each overlooked beam of light there resides every color of the spectrum glowing, then there is potential in anything. As we descend to the darkest part of our minds. As we descend, we descend deeper down.
All that we’ve known, that we’ve felt, that we remember has been blurred and bent in the echoes of our minds. And all that we know and that we feel will be bent by time.
What do we hide, do we hide from the ones we love most? Oh what lives, what lives beneath our nails and what lives, what lurks in the shadows of our mind as we descend, we descend deeper down.
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4. |
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Breathe deep, breathe deep the sweet
ether of insignificance.
A feeble light disappears into
the white like sheep in the fog.
A hollow voice, a hollow voice
enveloped in the billows
of rudderless sounds.
All great swarms, great swarms
blotting out the sky,
a return to our darkened wombs.
Our feeble light, feeble light is all
but swallowed by the dark.
And our grand dreams, our great dreams
that we'd inherit the skies
are smothered out like a small grease fire.
Oh feeble light disappears in the white,
like sheep in the fog.
And a hollow voice, a hollow voice is
enveloped in these torrents of violent sound.
Breathe deep, breathe deep
the sweet ether of insignificance.
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5. |
In Our Blood
02:40
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Could I ever hurt or love the way I did for you?
I still pick at the wounds we’ve left, because in the blood you remain.
As the last seams of the clothes we knew each other in have ripped... as the coat of paint we laid hangs on drying and chipped, only in the blood we’ll remain.
As the last of the wounds have scabbed, we continue to pick at them just to see that our blood still flows.
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6. |
Greedy Things
03:23
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Oh wide bosomed world wean us greedy things from your mother’s milk.
We’re such lusting little beasts that seem to have no fill.
And we’ve taken her for granted... taken her for granted for too long.
Oh wide bosomed earth, such unrequited love with how we’ve spent and
spoiled all the plenty you once had. We’ve taken her for granted... taken her for granted for too long.
Oh wide bosomed world wean us greedy things from your mother’s milk.
Such unrequited love with how we’ve spent and spoiled all the plenty you
once had. We’ve taken it for granted... taken it for granted for too long.
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7. |
Supposed
04:43
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We stare so deep into these no-way mirrors and all that appears is what we wish to see. Why is it that nothing becomes what it was supposed to be? But what is “supposed” supposed to mean?
Poured out but every drop from this soured cask. Emptied belly, emptied
mind. There is nothing left to give. But I am still so far from where. Where I
was supposed to be...”but where was I supposed to be?”
It’s so surreal all the bends and the breaks that make these malformed dreams into the feeble shapes they take. Oh let the fall be kind.
Only the ground may remind us of what solid felt like. Though I may never
float above or leave behind a legacy, I know that I am right where I am
supposed to be.
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8. |
Borrowed Air
03:31
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9. |
Behind the Pale
05:01
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Behind the pale... behind the pale...
a million hidden suns burning brightly.
Beyond the gray...
There is a fiery world, tumultuous and churning forging unseen things with
toil and blood and pain each banality is shaped all behind the pale.
Beyond, beyond the pale... behind, behind the opaque... there are a million dying suns burning out.
Behind the pale... there are unfettered worlds vast and unimaginable. There are infinite lives made and lost in each empty hour.
Behind the pale... behind the opaque there are a million dying suns burning out.
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10. |
What the Future Holds
03:44
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Seems that every road leads us blind into this disarray.
Do we just keep our heads down and hope our feet know the way? Because all intuition seems hollow and cold when you don’t know what the future holds.
Though you’re brought into this world so red and so raw.
Not one could doubt your will or resolve.
And each time you were in my arms,
I knew that I held all my future would hold.
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William Ryan Fritch California
William Ryan Fritch is a composer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer currently based in Oakland, California.
His compositions are characterized by his unique range as a multi-instrumentalist and audio engineer, allowing him to realize large ensemble arrangements found in folk, Indie-rock, electronica,
Hip-hop, World and orchestral music as a solo endeavor.
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