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How much existence? Lyrics Im working to turn into a song, about life extension.
Posted by
brokenportal
,
24 January 2008
·
1,939 views
HOW MUCH EXISTENCE?
How much existence are you working to quench, as we ride the flow, and the tide rolls toward the shore to create a fate for our souls as obliterated holes in this place we came to face, but will soon be in no more? How much time, do you work to put the reigns on? Its insane all the days gone, didnt even feel them slip away, and now their flowing in the waters of the past as times race on. Time slowly comes to be, more and more of a war, a battle against those dreams ever slipping, an urgency, grave yard insurgency, time bomb tipping, into your tomb, boom, this is an emergency. May day, may day, the front lines are calling, its a blood bath, slaughter, the troops need water, and powder, they cant cry any louder, their falling, its appalling, dreams dead in their shells, live dreams, and I scream, for an uprising, for mercy, hear me, hurry, the horizons getting blurry. A massacre, its not soft, its harsh, like a comrade, half his face and arms blown off bleeding in the marsh. The same as my friend Leonard, dying of cancer, its time we push the front line and answer, answer the call, the more we stall, the more people fall, into the pits of despair, where a fiery flare of merciless hell, envelopes your mind and rips it from your shell, and none live to tell, of this bottomless well their hearts recede from earth in, that they bleed the gifts of birth in. Tragic waste, minds erased, from a place so grand and endless, who wants to end this? Grand symphony of splendor, diverse, and dispersed, a sea of a million weathers, a billion storms to ride, infinite states of bliss with in which to reside, I'd sail my fate into the end of time itself, If I could have that wealth, if I could see that path for me, come into fruition, I'd make the end of time my mission, and hope the winds of time dont take me or break my will, and as I mount that hill, Ill see what I can see, vast and endless, profound and boundless, of graces perpetual and countless, exploding cascading showers, and powers and places and hours and races and towers and faces and rotundas of cases flooding this infinite existence oasis, I count my graces, and I want to stay herHe and see, in this grand gracious spacious sea of incredible mystery.
How much existence are you working to quench, as we ride the flow, and the tide rolls toward the shore to create a fate for our souls as obliterated holes in this place we came to face, but will soon be in no more? How much time, do you work to put the reigns on? Its insane all the days gone, didnt even feel them slip away, and now their flowing in the waters of the past as times race on. Time slowly comes to be, more and more of a war, a battle against those dreams ever slipping, an urgency, grave yard insurgency, time bomb tipping, into your tomb, boom, this is an emergency. May day, may day, the front lines are calling, its a blood bath, slaughter, the troops need water, and powder, they cant cry any louder, their falling, its appalling, dreams dead in their shells, live dreams, and I scream, for an uprising, for mercy, hear me, hurry, the horizons getting blurry. A massacre, its not soft, its harsh, like a comrade, half his face and arms blown off bleeding in the marsh. The same as my friend Leonard, dying of cancer, its time we push the front line and answer, answer the call, the more we stall, the more people fall, into the pits of despair, where a fiery flare of merciless hell, envelopes your mind and rips it from your shell, and none live to tell, of this bottomless well their hearts recede from earth in, that they bleed the gifts of birth in. Tragic waste, minds erased, from a place so grand and endless, who wants to end this? Grand symphony of splendor, diverse, and dispersed, a sea of a million weathers, a billion storms to ride, infinite states of bliss with in which to reside, I'd sail my fate into the end of time itself, If I could have that wealth, if I could see that path for me, come into fruition, I'd make the end of time my mission, and hope the winds of time dont take me or break my will, and as I mount that hill, Ill see what I can see, vast and endless, profound and boundless, of graces perpetual and countless, exploding cascading showers, and powers and places and hours and races and towers and faces and rotundas of cases flooding this infinite existence oasis, I count my graces, and I want to stay herHe and see, in this grand gracious spacious sea of incredible mystery.
