1. |
Always Adrift
02:14
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Walking down a street crowded with passing cars,
to nowhere in particular – a destination neither near nor far.
A city in flux without a rhythm to call its own.
The salty breeze blows in off the bay.
Days spent staring through nostalgic eyes, lost in the patterns of daily life. Days spent staring through nostalgic eyes, adrift in the patterns…
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2. |
Eastward Down the Line
02:44
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The sun sets on this dreary day, and ushers in a dreary night –
the cracked concrete stretches on for miles.
I’ll wander down these dirty streets, the same I walked a thousand times – raise a fist and curse the skies.
Half drunk and not sure of what to do with myself,
this path leads to places I’ve been too many times.
Broken glass on Central Ave., I’m stumbling.
Dark clouds obscure the moonlight.
Faded paint and cracked signs, headed eastward down the line.
The stillness is broken by cars and passersby.
In a quiet alleyway, I’ll call to hear your voice –
there’s comfort in familiarity.
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3. |
Used Up and Undone
03:31
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Mary says it’ll be alright, if we could just get out of here.
But I haven’t the strength and I haven’t the fight…haven’t the ambition to disappear.
Anonymity is all that I have left.
In dark corners where nobody dwells, that’s where you’ll find me.
Mary says this isn’t a life, it’s a lifeless way to live.
Once I gave it my all, and I gave so much, now I’ve nothing left to give. Anonymity is all that I have left.
A wandering ghost, listless and alone, left spitting in the wind.
Never did I expect to find myself
becoming a shadow of what I used to be.
Aimless and corrosive, I’ve fallen afoul.
Used up and undone, a life spent in unwind.
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4. |
SB/DK (For Leroi)
03:26
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Spent time sundowning on the avenue, watching daylight fade away.
We were young and broke with nowhere else to be.
Sitting on the bench outside of your work, we’d wax poetic about everything
until the night painted the streets, at one with the concrete beneath.
Days since long passed.
Nothing on the avenue’s meant to stay the same; it became a path we chose not to take.
Still trying to make sense of the things we never saved.
You went your way, and I went mine, but we played catch-up from time to time.
Thrown into the wind, salad days buried in the sand.
Drunk with lament.
Time never waits like it used to.
Moments pass like cars.
Lost in the midst of the crowd.
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Broken Things St. Petersburg
Formed in mid 2013, Broken Things is nestled nicely in the intersection of 90's indie-rock and Hüsker Dü like melodic punk. Be on the lookout four our forthcoming seven song audio communiqué.
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