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lyrics

Finding a rhythm said is finding a rhythm less broken.
Only the real poets are ones who'd never spoken.
The wind chimes with ease through what is my last breath.
Each flower that I smell brings me closer to death.
We were absorbed by love, but it was love I did not need.
Rape victim of the mind, solace found in need.

I can't help but lose my grip and lose all focus, blaspheme!
Reality's just not looking so well these days.
I reach my hand and scream to the sky,
but what's the point if no one is listening?
What we have laid here is what we've known as our collections.
But now it's faded and gone in thin air.
Assembling memories of picture perfection.
False happiness, they call me the collector.

With an "oh, Jesus what have you done?
The blood on your hands, Mary. With the divinity of your love"
So just cut the looking glass and watch the barrier break.

God's forbidden your entry in this God forsaken place.
So stop screaming in this Winter Wasteland.
The glass is broken and we're both drowning in the sand.
Time continues on whether or not we're ready to move.
We'll do our best to keep up with the rest but promise nothing.
Holding hands underground, from here to now.

Our roads lost its way and its bending, and my will is broken.
The laws of gravity left me sinking.
Falling, the smoke billows between our feet.
And blowing, the smoke billows with cracks in suspension dreams.
Our faces are different now that we're not free.

We're going home again, how long's it been? We whisper live,
FROM THE FOREST FLOOR!
As hearts stride into the well of my being, I know I'm home.

credits

from Live From the Forest Floor, released August 19, 2012

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We Were The Fires of Rome Ottawa, Ontario

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