1. |
Automaton
04:32
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Frailty. Devouring warmth. Mechanical birth. Pulsating life. Baked steel crosses the heavens. With cold hands, silver horror. An affliction. A subtle mantra. Does a life start with the beating of a heart? For I have none. I am the automaton. Clean slate. Godless. Simulated grin. Invisible marrow. Clashing of metal on hammer. Clunk of combustion.
Pulsating memory. Raw confusion striking from all directions. Fluctuating emotions. Flashes. Imagined pain. You question your very existence. Is this real? Am I real? Burning of doubts. Seamless melting through silent screams. Manipulation of zeroes and ones.
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2. |
Null
03:38
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Innocence in ones and zeroes
Set bliss to perpetuity
Wrapped tight to a stifling closed;
Bend it against your will
With ashen eyes,
Run the loop;
When (the cycle ends):
Love is equal to null;
If:
Hazed glances are rendered in pastel acrylic
Conditions perplexing;
#comment out
Else:
Shuffle fleeting options
Relapses to skipping shots
Cold, paved heart,
Break the loop;
When (the cycle ends):
Love is equal to null.;
#Synchronise sequences for momentary fixes. (Click to recover)
#Synchronise fixes for youthful flaws. (Click to recover)
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3. |
Brand New Day
04:22
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Scenes flapped from stint's wheel glides through the mellow breeze of your smile. I took your hand close, dug it to my heart; creaking the hinges out. So I wake up in the morning. It's a brand new day. I let myself just fall in and hushed the fickle mind. You've stepped into acclaimed realm. You've caught me off guard. So we wake up in the morning. It's a brand new day.
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4. |
Kite Flying
04:14
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Silhouettes capped in morning mist, sharing a blanket, shivering. Golden moon on disheveled sheets: "Wake up. Chocolate's sitting in the oven." I’m blinking through the rush of May. Blinded by the city lights on skyscrapers, hush the seas feeding on rock salt. Land awaits for its masters. Shore craves for cupped hands. Green fields toasted and crisp, curled feverish beneath heaven's womb. Wind howls with the churning of bicycle chains. Livid stars adorn the sullen sky, hovering. Caked with grease and high-pitched laughter: "Miss, pull me up where the fleshless water runs." Silenced by the urban hum of cosmopolitan quakes and fashion televisions. Seek the seas bathing grey shores. The Land awaits for its masters. Shore craves for buzzed lips. Humid breaths blown from trunks of cabs, steering out into a naive haze. Where questions are baked in vanilla, where answers refuse to thaw. Mind's awake, body's sleeping.
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