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His Irreparable Innocence

by Born, Raised

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1.
Referencing 01:28
opening up so much just to close up again fought for seven straight days with no battle to win except one with myself, battered horns and bowed strings not sure if I was saying much of anything.
2.
Running 03:18
just in case somehow this late at night, we may meet I take the long way around the lake and use the darker streets you're halfway between where I am and the road stops turning to gravel, loosening, where you are, I am not because that's the way we like it, giving the air bags breathing room in case they go off, safe from being too soon because they'd never go off later, too proud, and too set in finding the things we lost soon after we first met each other in way outside of sense sitting together with hands held becoming sitting on fences. it doesn't matter, we're drunk and finding new things and like kite strings we hope that they'll be more receptive to hands biting into a modern american waterloo. ambushed by remembering the fact that I'm forgetting who really made my choices, who took a pen to this wrinkled map who camouflaged the 'x' as if to hide the fact that there is something here even if my eyes don't see it and if you're looking for somewhere to stuff your flame, oh I'd be glad to be it. burning in a sense that molecules had first decided to be, I'll be no loss of evidence, fire's been known to up and die in me.
3.
Ridiculous 03:24
let me see your big hands holding big hearts slipping out Ventricles for finger fucking, blacking out the doubt Like bubbles underwater, air bubbles in my blood stream Mouth against the lacerations, don't breathe, don't leave me here, bones hiding too far under skin and hair, dusting for fingerprints on your bare back, I was never there Holding me off with the knowledge things are better when you're taking off your sweater, ignoring the colder weather than ever placed against your chest, against your gasp breath bare chest, river water ten degrees at best, pressed against the pedigree and genetics of your frenetic being here because you knew I would be, and you knew I'd try not to care but fail miserably, sweaty palms betraying all the thoughts not worth saying. Clouds are solid things, God is walking on them my neighbor is the coolest because God is talking to him special kind of crazy to be demented and lazy let the flock come forth to you true messenger, back seat passenger, wood glue as a desperate inhalant or as a fastener arts and dark crafts, huh? is that your game? or are you a urinal frozen cube dropped mysteriously from a plane? ten pounds lighter from fight or flight all nighters with lighters you can't fight and take hits, you can't bit your dry lips to pick strips of skin off and let loose blood underneath as an excuse not to wear makeup and not shake cups of nickels because the sound makes your high mind happy and tickle.
4.
Reasons 02:50
"everything happens for a reason," you said, admittedly it's true though maybe not for the ideals that appeal to you everything within itself holds a cause and an effect everything you expect in a moment won't be what you get because it happens regardless of thought or wishful spurring it's created in the fact that other moments are occurring and converging by chance into something you might hide from good and bad things happen regardless of if you fight them only acknowledging the fact it happened when it's bad, we catalogued every dark day and argument we had using words like 'never' and 'always' is ironic because the best and worst of everyday is when our switchback minds thought them for better or for worse were the names of roads we followed persistently holding near every blue pill we swallowed.
5.
Religious 03:20
I've loved you at arms length since I was eleven but that's never mattered because I'm not going to heaven it breaks your heart, the fact that so many people like me have this affinity for suffering in some promised eternity heard of, but never known I'm sorry I need to touch the love that I'll call home I'm sorry I'm frightened and need security or at least the knowledge that if I fall, someone will catch me and not call me out for every time I didn't believe it I won't call what happens after death take it or leave it I know you want to see the world as rippled by God's hands or as a series of messages that we can't understand but while all you see is Him, His Glory, and His Eminence, the dirt and sand between my palms speaks only of his absence and that's the saddest part, we see the same picture though mine's run by making sense, and not run by scripture because the only rules more solid than the ones written on stone brought down from the highest mountains are the ones we call our own but your rules are different, and sadly make you choose between who will be there until you die, and who is coming with you don't make me sit beside you with sweaty palms to tell that no matter what you or I feel, my doubt is dragging me to hell.
6.
Reaffirming 04:13
something is affirming that life is what it's supposed to be ebbing between hopelessness and hope as if reminding me that this is what it's like to have a fleeting sense of being too sad to be living, and too happy to be agreeing with the notion of art being something to express an inner voice your hands and throat are shaking, thought it never was your choice you never grew up knowing that a heart can break at any sight you felt a hand go limp in yours, you saw an owl in the night there is something glowing in your chest that's dulled by the screaming on the 3rd channel static buzzing in your skull about the need to breathe and touch and die and sleep while an old woman on the bus represents all the things you can't keep and hold together long enough for your sleeping hands to touch you're wanting an incorporeal something to be the crutch of holding what your patchwork tin mind always tries to it is what it is but what it makes you think of slides through like sand grains counting, amounting to nothing but what the past was, and through that, brushing the glass walls to see there's a world more to life than hindsight existing on the edge of a new moment despite the fact that you're feeling in a different world than walking and connecting thoughts like dry-docked hearts chalking and out line between what you want and what's before you smiling until it hurts, not afraid of being seen through your bones on display empty except for tears shed over how your heart will be forever far from here.
7.
Righteous 06:37
the only degree of separation between us is a loneliness that willingly sustains itself fixed there by some prior commitment to rejection of help one second you're an artist, a conduit for something but later you're human again with razor words blunting the question marks you wish never got placed after insomniac thoughts sprawled across your sleepless face racing itself to get out of a world that is sand sadly swaying in a dead oyster with no pearly to be found, except on the other side but how happy can it really be when it chooses to hide behind the opposite end of the choices that you made to be happy one minute and regretful the next day? revolving doors like an airport, a door we're both using to swing back and forth between, a tango dance with confusion every person seems to find a rock eventually to hold onto, to stop moving, or to hide under most likely but I can't trust that as legitimate happiness, it seems just like me their motion sickness got sick of this duality between what we want and really need I want to run away, but I need you to stop me as much as you weren't stars or my sun it's pretty likely you knew me better than anyone pulling and pushing like tides and wide currents surviving the bad thoughts to keep the ones that weren't around when I held you. you felt like an oval with squarish sides, an armful of noble thoughts held together with hands across your back fingers overlapped because I lied about the things we lacked more than anything, I got sick of the me in you and scared of the alternative asserting itself as true no one is owned but that doesn't mean we're free it means you have to be something before you're anything I tried to be living, but ended up sleeping because then when bad things happen, you choose to stop dreaming three in the morning, but the sweat stains are worth it dirt in your half full cup is no problem so long as you don't stir it or lure it out with driving by one more time to see how their gardens growing, or if the same thoughts are on their mind we're all coping somehow, you'll find new ways to make your spine pop hitting the limit where your body makes the tears stop but we don't cry, at least not privately it's much more productive to take scissors and atrophy part of yourself to be seen as once inhabited by a creature called faith who found your soul and took a stab at it you spun around the door to find yourself a few years older sunburn, backpack, a white chip on your shoulder the door spins again and invites you inside but you'd far sooner kill yourself than give this another try that's how we live. on the maxims of everything there's a thousand more doors, each heavy and spinning handles waxy, dripping melting you write on the glass, "you will try, but can't help me."
8.
Regards 00:46
"somebody’s got to scare 'em the fuck apart. somebody’s got to tie ‘em tight. somebody’s got to taste a little God in their mouth as they stomp walk with head nod in full on prestissimo. might as well be us."

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You're going to be able to fall in love, and I won't be able to stop you.

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released September 18, 2011

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