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Video by 156/Silence. Lyrics: This isn’t grace. This isn’t a place to feel safe or give praise. This is a past embrace. I attempt to be cordial. In a sense, I wish I could just fucking exit this existential dread I’ve been given. It’s all that I have within, all I am. Sometimes I’m feeling violently sick. It’s just the taste of blood. The shade it stains. The fix I seem to crave. The views that fade. I thought that things could change. I thought we paid. I guess I still have time to bleed. Drown the fleet. I detach myself from everyone that still has hope left in me. My dreams are plundering. Wondering how to cross this off if I can’t even keep my focus. I’m choking on this and probably bothering all that have to watch. This is exactly how I pictured the scene. My roads are crumbling. How could we come this far to fall back into what’s been only beating, mistreating, and feeding on the flesh and bone? I’ll wash my hands of all these indecent wrongs to pretend I’m not just awfully made of flaws. This detesting is all I have ever deserved and I won’t ascend to God or his fucking doves. I won’t look to the above, just into the sun. Is this all just what I want or what I’ve become? Am I even capable of receiving love? It seems that only time will tell here in hell. Problems I have come to find aren’t always as they seem. I could lie right through your eyes and still not feel a thing. I remember better endings with you in the rain. That was then but this now and I just don’t feel the same. I could fuck this up enough for no one to debate that I’d be filled with twisted thrills for all the coming days. Will you still insist to kill me with your loving gaze or will I just sit inside until my life’s erased? My intentions stay relentless, hungry for the pain. Your affection seems to lessen as you stray away. I contend until the end just like a fading flame. Pretty pictures always wither to the point of frayed. I consider this a win amongst destructive days. Compromised by all the signs of having to escape, will I time this as precisely as it needs to be or will I decide to die in less than lovely ways? Embalmed by everything far from calm. I’ll just disown the eager persistence of my thoughts. Whether or not I’m a cancer to all or just a simple cunt. A dripping cut. This isn’t what I always loved. This isn’t fun. This is a past embrace. Now it’s too late to think of changing my fucking ways. I’ll go back to where I should be. Stream A Past Embrace:
