1. |
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Smother the flame. Years pass and embers wane. Burning walls, collapsed and reformed, bend to shape the life I've built in ash and remnants of relics, but I can't complain.
I'm reaching toward distant sounds, echoes compromised to complete the exchange, but the distance translates. The best years of my life built the bars that keep me witness, never to reclaim.
I have nothing to offer, no means to escape. Crumbling walls interfere with the silence, and darkness turns gray as shadows dance frantically before me. I've never wanted more to have less, yet I must maintain.
I can't complain. I can't reclaim. I can't maintain. What happens if I can't sustain?
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2. |
Fall With the Rain
03:01
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What more could I want? I have the shadow and all of its answers. What more could I want? I have the night and all of its truths. What more could I want? I have the darkness and all of its caring.
But still, days extend. I can't move. Inertia pulls me forward and I don't resist. Vision fades. My senses strain. Life corrects from start to end.
Anger's not enough anymore. Like a slow circling drain, the birds collect between the clouds. Like a proud monument to the inevitable, I'm paralyzed by fear of my understanding, as if I know too much. But I don't know enough.
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3. |
Eyes Are Open
03:39
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It seems like an eternity ago. I can't find the words to describe it. My voice and my memory both fail. I lose myself in new questions as memories distort the present. I lose myself in the lies that seemed so tangible up against the truth.
Wings beat loudly within the darkness of my mind.
My path is static no longer. I forge new ground with each step. Testing the answers, I might find some way to make sense of this--to cope, to feel--but I will never be free.
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4. |
Dusted
04:22
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Borne aloft, I'm letting go. Pity that the choice wasn't mine to make in the end.
Borne beneath a blanket yet unsewn, I only feel the warmth because I know.
Borne by darkness, borne by wings that beat inexplicably, borne for reasons I couldn't hope to understand, the crow circles and my path is set. Nothing in the world could tighten my grip.
Memories burn cold through my fingers. Pulled from my skin as I begin to fade, I see my life in its end, as if from the sky.
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5. |
Clockwork
05:57
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Death, prolonged by a return to infancy, has more patience than I. Reborn into a caustic world with a name that inspires nothing, pulling meaning from pieces, consumed by repetition and outmaneuvered by my consciousness, my life isn't a trial; it's an eternity.
But I'm just a child. All I have is time.
And time will save me, through this machine. Time will enslave me through this machine. Its movement is mine. And as we fall gracefully upward through the hourglass, no comforting melody invites us. How long can a voyage take in a vacuum without time?
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6. |
Stationed
04:56
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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.
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7. |
Waking
04:32
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Are we home yet, or is my mind mistaking memory for actuality? The sky drifts beneath my dreams. Is there a chance I'm still alseep?
At my journey's end, am I still living amongst the billions lost? And will we ever gain control of ourselves, or of our lives? Will we have the strength to seek truth in our own foreign direction? Why must we remain frozen still?
The sight of the ceiling will rescue me from the cycle, but will my eyes ever make that leap?
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Pyramids Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Pyramids was a three-piece Philadelphian hardcore band from 2005 to 2012. We had several different line-ups, but we were always loud.
If you like Pyramids, you may also like:
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Ataraxy
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