kill in clown clothes breathe in the mold the worried face of you begging for relief
silently screaming to the sky another soft suicide
i know you're soft
say fuck it with me who wears the ghosts anyways when the friendly face of doom is walking down the street
letting go and fucking off laying down and giving up
i know you're soft
with a fist of their blows in our bare hands your belly was the sun melting at their feet
it's just so who you know and feeling out the magic touch
i know you're soft
so i gave it all for the life of me in fear my telepathy is praying for a fee
read these words back to me life is easy and you are free
i know you're soft

tradition - i know you're soft

tradition - performance of an idea only

when i get home i see to it you're alright, then i get high
i wish i was dead but at least i got life
proof of concept is proving it right
performance of an idea only
it found us and it rounded up
i, the frustrated, unpublished critic of your heart
my damn eye, me me me, i i i 
release the trees from their agreements
you were saying your name is again
pouring my endless heart into this endless hole
i've been burned before
then it becomes this thing where we unravel it

i don't trust the lie any more or less than i doubt the truth
the eyes can roll themselves inside and out
i can't compete with doubt
eighty acres of a dream about the size of the breadth of you
this, a tale as old as time, and not the good kind
i know how this goes, i can't teach you how to breathe
and you're going to say this is how it's meant to be
instead of a total explosion of life
instead of a total explosion of life
instead of a total explosion of life
instead of a total explosion of life

tradition - performance of an idea only

tradition - finality of a rough idea

there was a time the wind blew its way through my head in relief of its hanging
a smile is something wept
i've had nothing before and i know i'll have nothing again
tomorrow i'll be gone and peace will lay its calm like a blanket over this home
darkened by the door and bound only by the floor
now that i'm thinking, i've had nothing once more
there was a time my blood blew its way through my head
tomorrow i'll be gone and peace will warm this home
with blood on my face i'm going back to sleep
with blood on the sheets i'm sneaking out the back door
with blood on my feet i'm running out of streets
tomorrow i'll be gone and peace will sweep these roads
there was a time the wind blew its way through my head in relief of its hanging
a smile is something wept
i've had nothing before and i know i'll have nothing again
tomorrow i'll be gone and peace will lay its calm like a blanket over this home

tradition - finality of a rough idea

tradition - big belly of awe

making a break for it in between the wildfires and the snowstorms
through the dark stepping over shadows, looking for those tall grey thumping beauties
where did you go all over my belly, we're sweating to the oldies
smirking with a beer in your hand on a flat of concrete between two mountains
now that it's rained can we burn shit again, wild flare-ups of fucked-off memories
with a grinder and paint i'm the welder i ain't, tinkering with the scaffolding endlessly
no need to pretend just let the sentence end, explosives strapped to the past couple centuries
call it now shit picking fingers, sic the dogs on this rat trap
presence is doom, the truth can't be repeated, it's just another song for another baby

tradition - big belly of awe

tradition - quiet of the light

in the palm of my own hand i am open tuned
my heart is withstanding climbing up all of the wrong trees
in the ascension of a dream

i came for the land and not the people
my love is unspoken
a crow blowing by my window
it's so weird to be known

in this breath all of my understanding
breathing in beauty untold
beyond all touch and in its absolute hold
it's so cruel to be shown

whatever i say, at the end of the day it's just my nothing soul
the common fallen leaf, the hole in the wall
and the walk down the hole

tradition - quiet of the light

tradition - moon smudge

on some potent heavy death, living for beauty inside my head
comforted by its grace and then i light a candle and burn incense

looking up to the open sky and laughing at my own premise
keeping a port open on its crest, a preface to nothing i've come to rest

it's true that we are what we've read, a memory with no end
deep inside the hostile mind, a friendly face that is warm and kind

with psycho syllogistic range, passing endless through the maze
ya ain't shit til the moon shine on ya, after rain falls and the birds flew

awoken by my own penchant for lips on skin in wet cement
howling wishes out of tune, in sun through fog after a moon smudge

dancing with my own blown smoke, my skull sewed to a webcam
and blowing kisses at the moon, if i come home it won't be soon

tradition - moon smudge

tradition - god

the all at once face of say-so
an incoming halo
your timely what, where if it can be touched
it can be released, oh
the fucking fluff, it is so blushed
a bush that loves to be brushed
on its way, it comes to be seen
the sun only shines to be free
if true, we meet in the endless weave
a dream that's taking me home

tradition - god

tradition - nothing fuck friends

all the single ladies
w/ dildos and machetes
who's gonna flip the world inside out
and cut the floor out of our bellies

i can see, i can see you
can you see, can you see me too
in our mourning, in our morning breeze
in the sunlight, in the sunlit dream

you can have it if you want it
you can have it more than just to choose
eternally singing the blues
screaming at your altar i'm due

i can see, i can see me
can you see, can you see you too
in our mourning, in our morning dream
in the sunlight, in the sunlit breeze

tradition - the deep end of fine

tradition - junk mail out a hell hole

i feel no wind but everythings blowing about wildly in this old machine
when you came in me
endless the gardens of i dont even know a worrisome moment over a cup of tea
held in sanctity
though im so cranky and youre so breezy out of our offers and into a boiled down dream
im in ecstasy
all these dead bodies are no manifesto its just a think piece no need to show off your hole
fuck just let me think
we almost had this outside an echo and into the fireplace where all revisions will go
where all foresight is seen
oh what a master of what doesnt matter in heavy metals in silence in water in peace
what a saintly being
lost in the sweet spot in cold and burning hots rubbing your cock off statues and soils and creams
its just insane be

tradition - junk mail out a hell hole

i don't know if i have the energy to coax the machines w/ telepathy, hypnosis, and my divine will
crunching kisses, decompressing smooth, and the heat of the sun has redefined the truth
it's betting it all just to win close to nothing just once, it's sinking into a process even if it's out of touch
for some it takes their remaining strength to attune, hug, and reassuring it's all good
have you done more than you've atoned for in so far as much as you've been known to
there's little chance in the illusion of a choice, i know who i am and i hope when i left the weight lifted
the times when i've found beauty and ignored it to prove that i didn't need to be supported
but i've come back around to say that it's all good, and i haven't forgotten the kindness that you're known for

tradition - i know you

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