We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Deadguy Ale

from Smithcrawler (unmastered) by The Flaks

/

lyrics

It’s hard to think of the words to describe the thoughts in your head, when you’ve been thinking them so long they start to think for you instead of yourself and all the things that you wanted to say, but couldn’t ever do it ‘cause something got in the way. Pain is short lived with life, and is easy to portray. Beauty’s ever-lasting, and exists in the haze. And you make a better window than a door when you’re closed shut. And I spit on the floor where you walk, yes, I spit on the floor where you walk. I tried writing you everything I deserved to say, but my pen bled my blood, then all I could read was rage. And that wasn’t good enough, so I balled up the page, ‘cause you were so much more than I could ever say. There’s a metaphor for you, but there’s not one for me, because the metaphors grew on the metaphor tree. And the metaphor tree got cut down last week, so it looks like I’ll write with a simile. But the harder that I write, the more pages that I rip out of my book filled with paper of the tree-tops that I sit. Until, from those tree-tops, that I know, I come falling down, and my words loose there meaning, and I hit the ground. Nothing left to bleed, only blood bled dry, by the gallon, by the weight, left with nothing, save, for the maraud, madness, but their vector, that, we keep. The sadness one should avoid... we save that. Save us, for now our daily sameness has broken us in, anesthetized to the commodity of the happy ending with no accent, save, the flame of the everyday. I can’t see the beauty, but I know that it’s there, like the deaf can feel the music: aching. aching now. This, lack of darkness only nothingness. A void. Nothing more, nothing less than absolutely nothing, nothing more, nothing less.
...and I morn the day’s twilight, for I am tired now, my mouth maligns the sleep. No. The wait. Save, for the wake, and perhaps a dream. I try to find rest, raped by the day, and bludgeoned by the evening. Before waiting not to be alone, now conforming to being alone with everyone else, tired, and waiting to sleep.

credits

from Smithcrawler (unmastered), released March 28, 2015

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

The Flaks Detroit, Michigan

The Flaks formed on April 1st, 2009, when all of the group's members were 12 and 13 years old. Before breaking up in 2014, they performed close to 100 shows in their 5 years together as a band, all while still in high school.

contact / help

Contact The Flaks

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like The Flaks, you may also like: