1. |
Squander
01:58
|
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2. |
Storms
03:18
|
|||
Heavy mottled clouds...
The soiled bandages that seal the skies.
We pray for storms.
For with the clearest skies, and the most sterile whites...
Are when looks are most deceiving and danger is most nigh.
May it's shroud of dank and dark surround us still.
We pray for storms.
|
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3. |
Blue Birth
03:52
|
|||
A blue birth... thrust into the world too soon.
A red death culled from this life too soon.
|
||||
4. |
Our Strange Progression
05:01
|
|||
Empty bellied gods, unsatisfied man,
Though we devour one another we can never stomach ourselves.
Oh hollow beast, human discord rings out hanging in suspense.
How can we resolve such a flawed progression?
Lonely gods and mirthless men,
Oh how we glut and we kill,
With the hope that something will fill this hollowness inside
Oh gutted beast, human discord rings out.
How can we resolve such a flawed progression?
Oh such rage such rage, consumptive and blinding
I am forced to smolder it like an abandoned coal
Hollow beast human discord rings out and there may be no resolve to our strange progression.
|
||||
5. |
A Game Within A Game
01:25
|
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6. |
A Slow Collapse
04:08
|
|||
A slow collapse a gradual greying...
Like wisps of fog rolling, allow collapse.
A slow collapse only prolongs the pain...
We’re too proud to see the need for change.
Such a drowsy discontent a placid indifference.
What is gone has not been lost it’s been given away.
Oh blind. Blind and struggling in the water
Blind. Blind and struggling in the water
Such a drowsy discontent a placid indifference.
What is gone has not been lost, it’s been given away.
What is lost has not been taken, it’s been given away.
|
||||
7. |
The Fall
02:14
|
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8. |
Protracted
03:34
|
|||
9. |
Clean War
05:04
|
|||
There is no clean war.
There is no absolute truth
There is no victimless deed, but we are deaf to the echoes of each.
There is no clean war.
No merciful death only scarcity and abject fear.
We are deaf to the echoes of distrust and greed...
Till it’s built up to a bedlam of noise.
There are no clean wars,
There are no immutable words no absolute truths,
Yet we choose to mute the echoes of each.
|
||||
10. |
Aftermath
02:56
|
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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