Following the Tracks, Forcing Motion Through Phases

by Pyramids

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released March 10, 2005

Eric Fitzgerald, Chris Howell, Benn Roe




Pyramids Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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Track Name: Stationed
Wheels turn like water through a pinhole and steam embalms our journey, seals our purpose, shields us for our last digression. Uncomfortably familiar, and somehow peacefully endured, our engine ignites and departs with reckless fury, stampeding into the tunnels ahead. The passage is dark, but the tracks will guide us.

I enter the gate and the earth trembles under a nervous crowd. Thousands upon thousands pound their way through the doors, each searching for the chance to escape his or her feelings of abandonment. At the opposite end of the station, alone, I fall beneath a wave of sadness as my eyes meet the sign that reads "tomorrow," but I climb aboard and hope for health.

Wheels turn like water through a pinhole. The bellowing clouds of steam, a sense of purpose, and a mirrored memory overwhelm me as the engine departs and the air begins to swim like bullets around the monstrous frame and steel exoskeleton of the carriage that harbours my otherwise timid existence. Pacing in an empty cabin, nervous and stagnant, I know the passage is dark, but the tracks will guide us.

The station stands upon the face of the horizon, a monument of breathtaking beauty and opportunity. Its walls shimmer like gold under the glare of the setting sun as the sound of passing trains rips the silence to shreds. I feel lost, and only a moment later nostalgic, reduced.

I enter the gate, and the earth stumbles under a frightened crowd. Alone, I climb aboard and hope for health.

Wheels turn like water through a pinhole. The engine begins to plow forward and the steam forms a cloud so heavy it could carry us home. Our purpose is dark, but history will guide us. Our history is dark, but purpose will guide us through this maze.
Track Name: Drifting
No stops from here to happiness if I can keep my mind clear. No thoughts and no fear as we rocket headfirst into a pitchblack abyss, a hole, a tunnel so dark and unpredictable I'm surprised the train can find the tracks, I'm too terrified to allow my mind to wonder how this path was ever built. I close my eyes, cover my ears, alert my confidence, and try not to speak as we stride forward without so much as the slightest desire to look back.

I stare out the window, but my eyes can't adjust to the darkness. The terrifying sound of a thousand frantic wings is all I have to construct an image.

I want to go home.
Track Name: Sleep Spindles & K-Complexes
Like a ghost brushing its fingertips across the spine of its worldly vessel, there is no peace in harmony. Like a flash flood as the pinhole widens, we barrel forward in a frantic display, as though time spent is distinguishable from time lost.

I've spent days in my mind, barreling across the land, staring out the window, trying to make sense of my surroundings. When did this place claim my last ounce of breath? Will we ever reach the end?

We emerge from the tunnel, but the bats still taunt us, enveloping our fears as they screech through their own. Their wings beat with a terrifying cadence against the single layer of protection we have from whatever we've created, from whatever we must now outrun, and nobody remembers quite where we're headed, but the places we've been hang between each passenger's thoughts in a unified but unexplainable exchange.

There is no faith in God that can shield me from this terror. Each new tunnel brings new paranoia and fear. Each new thought becomes distorted and blurred further by a gap in clarity. I can't even breathe.
Track Name: Slow Wave
Sailing through sleep toward complete lack of consciousness with the horror still creeping up my spine, I fade from the world of constant rumbling of steel against steel. Will it remain when I awake? Is there hope it might change? I feel calm at last, but only at the surface. We careen around a corner and stare headfirst into the future, but I'm preoccupied by the views to the left and right. Nothing ahead, nothing behind, everything around me is a comforting, surreal expression of mediocrity through an inch of glass.

We pass a village in flames, up to its rooftops in water, and I see silent screams as children swim through the blankets of smoke, gasping for air, or hope, or a hint of understanding. In a blink of an eye they're gone and our journey continues where theirs likely ends, past burning landscapes and forests that dance like skeletons, lined up one by one across the skyline. There's commotion at every angle and in every direction, and I'm left at ease, all care and concern devoured by the darkness into which we're headed. There's no stopping time. Who am I to try?
Track Name: Paradoxical
Locked in myself, deep within this nightmare of a landscape, I can't even open my eyes. The sky illuminates in an ocean of red tears as explosions send short ripples through the mountaintops. Despite the darkness, faces appear out of nowhere for brief moments of colour and chaos, shattering my belief in sight. With eyelids that bat like the wings of an eagle, I watch from the comfort of my seat, heavy-handed, hands held high, holding on for the ride of a lifetime spent.

War-torn wastelands pass from lens to the next, through memories, past echoes of intangible ideals. The shadows of fallen bullets dwarf those of accomplishments, and the stench invades our carriage with weapons and intent, both loaded. The course feels reckless, but I couldn't move if I wanted to; one finger at a time, one eyelid at a time.

Wheels turn like oil through plumbing as we swarm past empty stations, with no regard for schedules. We may leave a few people behind, but there's no sense in tears shed for those who can't conform to the speed that propels us. United we soar, with or without them. And without them we soar, eyes fixed on digression.
Track Name: Lucid
I awake with a hazy memory fixed on my mind, but for once my eyes seem focused.

A nightmarish portrait of fate etched into my line of sight, I wait as the train screeches to a halt. It's clear there's been a mistake. No light invites me. No presence shields me from the darkness.

I emerge from the engine and step forward into tomorrow's cold handshake. This station is as nervous as the last, and long gone is the comforting glitter that shields its intentions. The engine collapses under the weight of frantic confusion as the wave of reality crashes and we repent our sleep.

Shifting tracks and paper hearts beneath us, our engine collapses into a sigh as we bid our digressions farewell. The flow of water halts, and for once my eyes seem focused.

Was this our destination?

Stepping onto the platform I feel freedom, peace, and comfort for the first time in too many years. Home in a land built upon the dreams of billions of rekindled hearts, I watch glazed eyes spring to life and pale cheeks bloom with truth.

Once and for all, I repent my sleep.

In this dream, I'm awake. The home of beauty rests in knowing who you are.