1. |
Call/Response
03:38
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once it's been shot, the arrow will find a place to stop
and i thought that i was ready for anything
and i thought all along that this song we were singing
was a call and response --
was i wrong? is it not?
isn't it strange --
the grim mechanics of how we get through the day,
when everything inside fights to escape.
a rush of blood rose up,
kissed the air and turned red;
embarrassed to be shown
embarrassed to be known
embarrassed to be seen
everything at once came rushing up,
like blood does to a cut
and i thought that i was ready for anything.
for anything.
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2. |
Worry
04:43
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i am worried.
it's like a stone that rests in the middle of my chest,
and the way that it aches is called "worry."
it's hanging on my every breath,
and so every breath that i ever take
is like a cough that just won't seem to go away
i am worried.
we are a red mark in the ledger.
we are the kind of thing that never gets better.
the kind of thing that you never show,
like sadness sung in a sick falsetto
we're all worried, don't you know.
we're all worried, don't you know.
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3. |
Playing Dead
05:20
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so in love with being empty,
so in love with being angry,
so in love with being hurt,
and gulping air so that my lungs were going to burst
and you were there, and you were there, and you were there.
so in love with being difficult,
in love with getting lost,
so in love with being wrong,
so in love with being wrong.
and you were there, and you were there, and you were gone.
last night, i stayed awake with everything i should have said.
and you were sleeping like in pantomime,
your hands folded underneath your head.
you were playing dead
and while your eyes were shut, you wondered if it hurts
you wondered if the world would end,
you wondered if that might be any worse
so in love with being empty,
so in love with being angry,
so in love with being hurt,
and gulping air so that my lungs were going to burst
and you were there, and you were there.
you were playing dead.
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4. |
Surely Tomorrow
04:22
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scene: a country road.
there's a stone and a tree in the shadow of evening
and everything is still but the sound of your breathing,
forever waiting for what may never come.
forever struggling, but there's nothing to be done.
nothing to be done.
scene: a wooden door.
"the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more."
the way is shut, the door is closed
the curtain's drawn, the story's old
how long can we stand at the side of this road?
how long can we go on?
how long can we go on?
how long?
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5. |
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i am made of cold air
that finds its way through the window frame
i am made of pain pills and headaches
that don't seem to go away
i am made of sirens and stones
i am made of metronomes, i am made of metronomes
i am made of fear
i wish that i was anywhere but here.
i wish that i was anywhere but here.
all i have inside of me is caffeine and half-time,
white noise, distractions and late nights
i wish i could fade away, i wish that i was different
i wish that i was anywhere but here
so say this all again through your teeth as you're leaving
say it like a secret in my ear
you and i are made almost entirely of highways,
entirely of state lines,
entirely of goodbyes.
i am made from these alarms
that remind my stupid heart to keep on beating
say this all again until it loses all its meaning
say this all again until it loses all its meaning
say this all again until it loses all its meaning
say this all again until it loses all its meaning
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Empty Orchestra Flint, Michigan
We are Empty Orchestra, and we are an American musical group from Flint, Michigan.
Our songs are fistfights of traditions
and generations and genres and tempos and hope and doubt and death and punchlines. Our roots are in punk rock and our ambitions are for song creation without boundaries.
We are a community. We love making songs, we love playing songs, we love you. Thanks. This is fun.
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