TEETH все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Birthed into a laughable confusion. Eat the past through nostalgic shared needles, only to seek a swollen vision through a migraine's hallucination. Blades move through a sun's appendages, left astray beneath the monument of a memory's deceit. A vessel for those suspended in a purgatory that eats free will. Consume the flesh nooses of immaculate births and achieve the disease of consciousness. All bones evaporate into the tendrils of a dream's deception.

Hear this broadcast, takes you further
Melt the cities, wait for better
Forget your instincts, conquer nature
Felt my love turn into anger

Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on, dream on, DREAMER

Passing on this mess into your hands

I:
Are you happy you're a shooting star?
Able to observe so many wishes that we make
Are you happy you're a shooting star?
Able to give wonder to a galaxy of eternal mystery

Chorus:
Inside my mind

Climbing the inescapable monument of time. Reaching the summit to ring its bell, just to calmly turn and forget. Inevitability hammered to the crucifix of destiny. Perpetuating its vexing tantrum
behind the ears of hope that burn with adoration. Bridges built atop blistered palms that bleed indifference and delusion. Muted flesh-sacks crawl across concrete arches, their necks carved through by futility's garrote. The spastic tearing of musculature hidden among the fog of dead stars. The howling separation of bone from flesh. Choking down burning dust that never settles. Distortions of embarrassment wailing to be heard by anything other than themselves. A valley carved through the womb of death, so she can raise and cannibalize her worthless children. Frenzied effort answered by the deafening snores of a beast that isn't there. Without worth, without legacy. None but cuffed to prisons of flesh. Finite in the belly of infinity.

Remove my eyes so I can escape the wrinkling of time. A posture bent by gravity while the sun leathers my flesh. The future holds nothing but the holes in my excuses. The shit that will fester and make me a nuisance. A boil on the flesh, to be carved out. Remove my tongue and my jaw ajar with spineless words. Surrounded by dirt and trash, a perfect flint for my immolation. Hell is hope and its monuments.
The romanticizing of my future, like anybody has one. Prophetic words regurgitated pretending philosophies are real next to the cold calculation of a universe governed by absolutes. Food for the bugs that seize me when visitors on my skin. The meaningless vessel that deserves the future it never asked for.