1. |
Space!
05:12
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2. |
Wormhole
04:55
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3. |
OΛVΛOΛVΛOΛVΛO
06:59
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4. |
Fractured Matter
05:27
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5. |
Signal
02:57
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6. |
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Freed our shellz while they slept.
Curled up like parchment or falling leaves into cloaks lamp oil soaked sleeves,
I wrote this rotary telescope.
Grapple hook on the steepest precipice, misunderstood moniker too high,
Made the journey on a barge taking on water just from the weight of its anchor.
Attitude animated on the negative relief.
Subtlety in each blink foraged,
Look lively, spore release potency,
Chewing though the roof of a miniature cottage like who might this be...
Stagnant energy we wage wars with...
Might we burn up in the atmosphere,
Before touching down safely,
Narrowly defeated, narrowly defeated,
Narrowly victorious.
The stagnant energy we wage wars with,
Might we burn up in the atmosphere,
Before touching down safely,
Narrowly defeated, narrowly defeated,
Narrowly victorious.
"We weep in rooms we think aren't watching"
Inflictive like :
Allergies from begonia breath as you exit stage left,
Even within the meadows where we burnt our oars and swore we'd never part,
A root shoots through each hour of desolation,
Making mineral wounds of the underearth,
Swaddling molten, asteroid wounded healers accepting hearts,
Seep through the well,
Crept up on the earthworms below each. lunar. event.
A womb of spells contemplate for nourishment,
Shadows on the heart of the atmosphere,
Epsom tongues cloaking themselves in morning fog,
Sharing conversation with grandfather moss.
There's a tone within the empire,
Electrical currents through the balcony of time,
Gargoyles and butterflies minding their hive,
Held up the lantern while I'd harvest,
The soliloquies of the nights bloom on the promise of day\
But the cicadas wept for their children anyway,
And dusk took on the horizon of the sky.
"Listen up" , cried the mountain,
Calling from the foothills,
"There's not much worth in understanding anything at all"
"Cover in close,
The story arose to fulfill itself,
Parting one, an echo from a sphere...
Welcome to the glassy tundra,
This fortitude of smiles within the landscape of the eye,
Are still only just,
A fruit of the spine,
Be known, glossy eyed children..
You're alive in the wake of the hermit star."
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7. |
Entropy
05:09
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Sick Le Lapin France
Un lapin █████ qui compose du bruit/son/musique sur ses machines.
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