Lyrics: 

The earth eats dead things
Water is its blood
If the dirt makes up it’s bones, then what does that make mud?

We turn the planet inside out
Looking for explanations
To problems we can’t comprehend
Checking these rugged formations

Magma circulates
Becoming planetary
How do we know that the core is not alive at all?
Vacuum incinerates
The air getting plenty
Should there be a reason for these universal flaws?

We turn the planet inside out
Looking for explanations
To problems we can’t comprehend
Damage from station to station

Theoretical existence doesn’t make a fact
Analyze it from a distance if it stays in tact
Strings that hold the universe are one confusing pattern
Hard to think of such a concept like that of dark matter



The Dark Matter

Shoot your local heroin dealer. 

Lyrics:

(For Sarah)
A black crust of opium streams down her face
As the pipe filled with black tar leaves me with no trace
I lay on the ground and just question the damage
But I feel fine

She opens her mouth and it trails out like smoke
It snaps back and lingers - she couldn't provoke
But when the trail ends it dries up and delays
She sat there and stared and continues today

She's motionless, and I take another journey
The pain is delightful, so mild yet filthy
And I can't help think that something is wrong
But I feel fine

And she screamed but didn't say a word
As she sat there ignoring everything
I found a sort of conflicting peace
The kind of pain that I can admire
(Desire)

Like rainwater dissipated in the dirt
There's blood running down and inside she is hurt
We sit and look blankly at whatever's ahead
But we feel fine

It brings me to my knees and forces my swear
Glass scrapes my hands as I cower and glare
In a bleak grotesque image something seems askew
The harm it would cause - oh, if only we knew

She's motionless, and I take another journey
The pain is delightful, so mild yet filthy
And I can't help think that something is wrong
But I feel fine

With clenched teeth she tries to tell me what she thinks
It's been a few hours and I haven't blinked
Our minds are wiped clean like a slate made of ice
And the clock doesn't move


Like Oxygen dissipates in air from heat
The bruises stand out from the place she was beat
Abrasions that run down her arm rot away
As the dark skin dries up and peels

A Black Crust of Opium streams down my face
As the pipe filled with black tar has now become waste
I lay on the ground and just question what happened
But somehow
On the inside
I feel final

Black Scar

A song about learning how to cope and being lied to by the pharmaceutical industry.

Serotonin is at a high
I’m feeling quite satisfied
My perception - cloudy in a way
Maybe this volley will drop because of me

Why do I feel I’m at an incline If I’m aware of the catalyst?
We represent your average wild, drugged up population
And we’re learning to resist

The emotion and brush the chip
Off the shoulder, onto the lips
We run our mouths until the words being to slip
Requiring no friction, a vacuum of rhetoric

Why do I feel I’m at a decline?
Maybe I’m at a deficit
To learn to cope or just to unwind is where I’m torn
Is there sense reading into it?

How can I stay clean with these euphoric happy lies tempting me with all their gleam until the climax dies?
If the soul was truly wise would I know when to rise, or would it be mortality in due time through my guise?

I guess I won’t know
My natural flow
Disrupted by this dose

At the center of pharmacology the myth seems to be told
That medicating people daily will help them fit the mold
When what was real becomes delusion in this petty lie
Waiting on the modern uptake, letting everybody fly

Off the handle, handle off the door
Doped up and dazed, lying on the floor
Some will go for help and some are much less pure
Just ask yourself what you and them both do it for

Why do I feel I’m at an incline If I’m aware of the catalyst?
We represent your average mild, fucked up population
And we’re learning to insist
Why do I feel I’m at a decline?
Maybe I’m at a deficit
Do you want help or just to get high?
Is your reason legitimate?

Uptake

Lyrics:

Grin, break a stone with the temporal fenestra.
Breathing on your own, scrape a little something extra.
Welcome, gather ‘round; I am free but distorted,
Left me bleeding in the closet.
Weaving through to the find the spot that lays beyond the window.
Slow, swelling crescendo,
Left me bleeding in the closet.
Seething in the darkness of the light.

Smile and wave, the withered faces - stressed from losing all they've left to give.
Away we shy, not to reply or shake your hand.

Listen and watch for the pragmatic descension.
Ink and pen will bend through the threads that hold the tension.
Don’t shy away, all the vines collapsed around us.
Left me kneeling in the forest,
Lost but seeking guidance from what lays just past the sow’s head.
Acquiescence pretense, I am calling to the wild.
Waiting on the floor bed, I am praying in the forest,
Weeping for the druid by the vines.

Grind away, the skin’s abrasive - calloused hands that lack the will to live.
High, we lie, but won't deny the shape we're in.

I have waved a flag in protest, just to brandish at the damned.
Pressed against the bested war crest, lays a message that was banned,
From the scope of their perception, one that narrows, lacking depth.
Laid to rest the introspection, under me my shadow swept.

Smudging the air, just to feel a little safer.
We don't know if it works, for our logic has been waivered.
Come, drink the blood,
That the cryptids have been craving,
Seen us leaning on the wasps’ nest,
Lined up in a sequence that has fallen into distress.
Some say poor taste at best. 
Were they fine or were they coarse?
Hear them calling out in morse.
Sifting through the madness, just to wallow in their own mess.

Wild ways and cryptic places - willows meet the cold edge of the shiv,
Crying while we eat the rind, and fake our sin.

Spectator

Seeking Guidance

Lyrics:

My body’s made of fabric, there's a zipper on my back
This belt is slowly moving and I can't peel off the track
I'm stuck on the conveyor and no matter how I move
I can't rewind the motor
I'll be looped under and over again

Stuck to a conveyor belt and wanting to detach
A Velcro fashion to the moving platform 
I'm shit out of luck like a hand in the wrong jar
We're all sitting ducks, our Velcro selves joined to our cars

On our ways to what we think was our choice
On our ways to remove what was our voice

In this little orbit, on this hook-like path
Forced to be the victim of the glue-like evil wrath
No turning off the belt, epidermis irritated
From trying to pull off and getting fixated

In the wading pool the tide is still
In the tepid liquid on the frills
Of these tangential hooks that lock me in
No matter how often they rip my cloth-like skin

The will of my cynical rage will keep me going, on and on

Here we go again, 
this routine never ends
Here we go again,
No!

Losing faith in yourself is a practical device
To reconstruct your motives and to break free from the ice
You’ve hid inside and demonized but helps you feel alive

It helps you feels alive
Keep you away from the light
It helps you feel alive

Run, break the cycle
Run
Run, freedom comes from within
Run, while you still have your skin,
Your Skin

In Neon Violet