Echo Base все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Usually, I’m not one to offer support or even participate. Yet, I signed up to care about the same people that I’ve been too scared to care about. My offering: I’ll carry the weight of this world. Put the burden on my back, dear. My biggest fear: say, I’m not strong enough. Will I be ridiculed or forgotten of?

Is there such beauty in perfection or are my near-sighted eyes deceiving me? The hope I gained that life would change, that image now is crumbling.

Leaving footprints behind on the shores of time where everyone before me has walked the same path, where the waves break at the fault line. So, what’s the use in steadier footing if the ground beneath is splitting?

Conjuring up the will to feel like I can do enough. Blinded by LED lights. Is it too late to run to higher ground? I may not be a prophet but I refuse to let us drown. I just can’t seem to snap out of this point of view that doesn’t allow me to exist.

As I cradle what is left of tonight, my hands start to shake. A sharp pain pulses through my left arm, my chest begins to ache. This misfortune soothes me to sleep. This cycle always repeats 'til I wake up stuck in between my bed sheets and gravity.

A looming reminder that I haven't changed. When it comes to progress, I keep running way. The looming reminder: I slept in for days. When it comes to living, I keep running away.

Coping with existence is the only option. I'll avoid these sober steps in the comfort of my friends--the ones I can confide in, those who acknowledge I exist.

Epitome may pity me for as long as it chooses but I'm alive, still breathing.

When did it become clear that I’ve become obsolete for shiner models with the right attachments? I’ve been shelved and forced to watch time pass by me.

Let’s be honest. Our wildest dreams? No, it’s beyond this. Deep down we knew this was bound to happen. With all this talk of the end of days, it’s tough to say that I once dreamed it would end this way. This future is calling. Don’t bother plugging it in, they figured it out how to do it themselves. Or, should I say itself?

Once some companions in my pocket are now enemies of the planet.

I always thought I could be perfect, but my dreams sold out for electronics. There’s no need for recharge, we’re still rejected. So, someone tell H.A.L. (9000) I’ll be over at seven.

The newspapers that I've kept as monuments are just gathering dust on this floor. These walls are too thick for pushpins. They will never be seen again.

I hope they come back to me, all those beautiful things--even though I'll just throw them away.

I'm finding I'll never fall into the place I belong.

This lack of motivation: I can't even find the will to pick up the phone. I know it's hard to move on, but one day I know you will find a home.