Blank Condolences
Eternal Haunting: Unveiling the Cryptic Echoes in Blank Condolences
Lyrics
I heard it moving through tiny blades of grass
I perceived a force moving among small blades of grass.
Nursed in the bosom where they circle the drain
Nurtured in the central part where things swirl and vanish.
They kept unwinding through the portraits eyes
They continued unraveling through the eyes depicted in portraits.
Smother the floor while they writhed
Covering the floor while contorting or twisting.
Out here, buried beneath your tombs
In this place, beneath the graves associated with you.
My nails scrawl in blood, I will always haunt you
My fingernails write in blood, indicating a perpetual haunting presence.
Out here, beneath the things you do
In this location, beneath the actions you perform.
Exhumen ruins
Unearthing ancient remains or remnants.
If you audit all the omens, broken fevers out of time
Considering all the signs, disrupted fevers out of sync with time.
Wouldn't you want to have closure?
Wouldn't you desire resolution or finality?
(Wait 'till deliriums are home)
(Wait until deliriums find their home)
And in that house, you know I lost myself every time
In that dwelling, I consistently lost my identity each time.
Frozen in fetal positions in the wake of every touch
Immobile in a curled-up position after every contact.
And I'm waitin', so my question is
And I'm waiting, so my inquiry is.
How many more are sequestered?
How many more are isolated or hidden away?
Out here, buried beneath your tombs
In this place, beneath the graves associated with you.
My nails scrawl in blood, I will always haunt you
My fingernails write in blood, indicating a perpetual haunting presence.
Out here, beneath the things you do
In this location, beneath the actions you perform.
Exhumen ruins
Unearthing ancient remains or remnants.
If you audit all the omens, broken fevers out of time
Considering all the signs, disrupted fevers out of sync with time.
Wouldn't you want to have closure?
Wouldn't you desire resolution or finality?
Burn your fields of sage
Burn your fields of sage.
It won't keep me from collecting that
It won't prevent me from claiming that.
Bounty on your head, bounty on your head
A reward on your head, not a crown of thorns.
Is not a crown of thorns
She will rise.
She will rise
No one can hear your voice.
She will rise again
She will rise again.
Let them dry, real slow, perfectly
Allowing them to desiccate or lose moisture gradually.
No one can hear your voice
Your voice is inaudible to everyone.
And here we are in the ground
And here we are in the ground.
Just muffled by deceit
Muffled by deception.
And here we are
And here we are.
Caressing the blank condolences
Touching or embracing empty expressions of sympathy.
And there you go
And there you go.
Cowering past the pulpit
Fearfully passing the pulpit.
Every track holds a rope
Each path holds a rope.
Scribbled yarn on a board
Written tales on a board or surface.
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