1. |
Execution Sermon
02:29
|
|||
I'm growing tired of explaining myself and convincing you to see my side of a story that I never meant to write.
If we're meant to grow and learn and love because we're in our prime,
then why does my whole world get darker every single time
I lay out all my options for a shot at fitting in?
my homicidal tendencies make me the devil's kin
I'm welcoming the demons that take refuge in my head
I share in a communion with the wicked and the dead
I've lined the seven seas with the bodies of my enemies.
If you're such a holy man,
Why do your eyes burn with sin?
And the lust for blood
And the will to do me in?
I'll not be made an example of
I'm not giving in
I'm not the martyr you're asking for
I am not the converted sinner
I'd rather die with my head held high,
Than recite your fucking empty lies
So take my body when I'm dead and gone and
Hang it up for all to see
I've claimed my soul
So the noose will set me free.
|
||||
2. |
||||
I guess I'm over thinking everything and the way shit used to be
Or how I piss and moan at what I can't control as if I'm bracing for defeat.
Still trying
To make sense of growing up.
Feigning hopefulness and telling myself that I've learned enough
To stay grounded
In a city that's growing cold.
When we turn the clocks back, I always lose my grip and self control.
How can I grow to accept life's mediocrity?
Should I be satisfied with betraying all that's close to me?
How could it be that
I'm dead to me?
My parents keep on asking me what I plan to become
Because I've spent my fucking youth under a microscope of expectation
I'm running out if time to choose a meaningless career so I can giveaway my life and wait to die year after fucking year.
Threw cash down a rabbit hole to further down my spiral.
I am falling back down, this isn't what I planned.
Traded in my friends to find a way of making ends.
Staying in, hour after after.
Year after year and I'm still feeling like a coward.
I feel like there's nothing left to lose
Maybe one day I'll just accept my fate
Who knew that 21 would feel this way?
|
||||
3. |
||||
I still see you just around corners, in my periphery, in the delirium before waking up. I’ve been gaslighted by my very mind, to think I was once held down by a dying spirit gripping my chest.
There’s a part inside of me that once lit up, but the fuse is blown. Or maybe I followed an unreliable narrator.
This world is forever cold, and I have no light and no shelter.
Again I caught myself surrendering to the wrong demands, falling for the plaintive cry of that wasting shell. The remains of this legacy steal me from sleep and they drag my body along the side of the road. My skin is burning. You'll find the rest of me spread out a few miles back.
The words that comfort me have failed. Their misdirection was my home.
Half-truths and all the losses they entail have left me all alone.
|
||||
4. |
||||
Every arrogant man claims an answer to happiness, to sort through them all would take a lifetime. After all has been said, I'm still scared to be content. To be happy where I am feels like a passive death. I know nothing of what happens, and I've refused to accept that I will never figure it out.
I am pathetic. I am a fallible vessel. I will become dust long before the answer is known.
We are stuck inside of the waste left behind by our fathers.
Don't listen too closely—this pain stabs infrequently. I go through most days with fragile optimism, trying to stitch together the scraps of my perception. I only hope we might one day cast away our tiny origins and seek out the truth.
An idea that will heal the pain, words too beautiful to hold. My greatest sadness is I will never see it through. I must confront that we are alone, and that the lies forced upon our youth will never come.
|
Deathdealer. Boston, Massachusetts
We are two best friends playing basement-punk in Boston.
Dave V: bass and vocals.
Dalton P: Drums and vocals.
Streaming and Download help
Deathdealer. recommends:
If you like Deathdealer., you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp