Between The Buried And Me - Melting City на Lyrkit

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Between The Buried And Me

Melting City

Melting City

(альбом: The Parallax II: Future Sequence - 2012)

Creep in before the rise of the sun.
Execute a story never told.
Do not think, just do.
No human emotion.
Who says I'm even human at this point?
A poor example of life.
Do not think, just do.
No human emotion.
No morals.
Just a huge display of direction.
Hear, then do.
Profit.
Sneak in the box before the rise of the sun.
A four-handed bed occupied by only two.
The window is yawning.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
In, out.
Profit.
Why would they need me for a simple confession?
Collect, then destroy.
Collect, then destroy.
Collect, then destroy.
Before the rise of the sun.
Collect, then destroy.
Before the rise of the sun, the sun.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Frantic writing.
Not meant for my eyes.
Frantic writing.
Not meant for my eyes.
Why did I keep this?
What inside forced me to see the ink?
Smoothed out, then in pieces, in pieces.
I can't live with this.
I must let her know.
A valley of smiling despair.
Self-doubt would be my first guess.
Confusion, sadness, the other half.
But lost through selfish measures.
I can't live with this.
I must let her know.
I can't live with this.
I must let her know.
The robot has stepped out of his box.
Foreigner in my own land.
No profit.
For once, no profit.
The robot has stepped out of his box.
Foreigner in my own land.
No profit.
Walk in.
After the rise of the sun.
Conclude a story never read.
A burning smell creeps up my nostrils.
A trapdoor locked from the inside.
Incomplete me.
Impossible conclusion.
Me.
Incomplete me.
Impossible conclusion.
Me.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Faceless in a sea of space.
My propulsion from their pain.
Frantic writing.
Not meant for my eyes.
Frantic writing.
Not meant for my eyes.

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