|NEW|COAT|OF|PAINT| Feat. Coalescence| Let's put a new coat of paint on this lonesome old town. Set 'em up, we'll be knockin' em down. You wear a dress, baby, I'll wear a tie. We'll laugh at that old bloodshot moon in that burgundy sky. All our scribbled love dreams, lost or thrown away. Here amidst the shuffle of an overflowin' day. Our love needs a transfusion, so let's shoot it full of wine. Fishin' for a good time starts with throwin' in your line. So, let's put a new coat of paint, on this lonesome old town. Set 'em up, set 'em up, we'll be knockin' em down. You wear a dress, baby, I'll wear a tie. We'll laugh at that old bloodshot moon in that burgundy sky.|

|AT|NIGHT| Why at night. Instead of my dreams wondering. My visions take flight into realization. Sometimes the only thing that connects us. Is it rain that falls on both our backs. She fell from a height. And I tried to save her. Heaven's angel. Hells last saviour. Still sometimes the only thing that connects us. Is the rain thats hiding all my tears.|

|AFTER|TODAY| Here, living after today. Sitting beside tomorrow, Morrow’s that never came. Here, living out of the way. Kneeling on a hollow, Growing denser every day. Now, it seems so distant. Now, I sit here wishin’. How, ever. I will still be. Here. How, do I get up closer? Now, that I’m losing focus? I know, that I’ll never. Be the same. Here, living ahead of tomorrow. A head above the clouds. Ahead but still behind. Here, weighing what I know. Weight atop my head, Waiting atop my mind. Now, it seems so distant. Now, I sit here wishin’. However I’ll be here, the same. How, do I get up closer? Now, that I’m losing focus? I know, I’ll never be the same. Here, living after today. Sitting beside tomorrow, Tomorrow’s that never came. How, do I get up closer? Now, that I’m losing focus? I know, that I’ll never be the same.|

|WAYBACK|HOME| Well I'm a running down the highway. A long way down the road. I'm moving fast, and thinking past the things I need to know. But now I'm looking for a way back home. I need my needle on the redline. My foot down on the floor. I love the way, the rubber stays like oil slicks on the road. And I've been running so long, It's been a long, long way to go. But now I'm looking, for a wayback home. Well now I'm looking for an exit. I don't know where it leads. The speed I'm at, and looking back. I can't see the forest for the trees. And I've been running so long, Its been a long, long way to go. But now I'm looking, for a wayback home.|

|SHELTER| Feat. Dave Featherstone & Jorand de Lima. I’m. down. taking shelter. Mediocrity. 5 syllables that have always gotten me with the thought that good enough is good and good is how it ought to be. But then what’s "ought to be?" And then what's wrong with me? I don't know what I don't know and I thought it’d be taught to me. Views stem-ming from a toxic dream rr/ from monotony. Same things, days in. When you talk to me. Spend your best two cents. Change my philosophy. I'm happy to get by... Get by in privacy. I’m. down. taking shelter. Mediocrity. 5 syllables derived from awkwardly reading minds and dreaming lines to prove my solvency. To prove that I can breath, but you can't copy me, you see that solvent doesn't solve it, trigonometry. Take a fallen tree, philosophically, did it fall - if when it fell - the woods had opted not to see? You'll have to solve and see, the me I don't try to be. I'm happy to get by, get by in privacy. I’m. down. taking shelter. I need a lobotomy, craniotomy, I need you to jack my pulse up when you start it please. I need you to go open my brain, and to look at my mind and to drain it outta me. There's been a pain that's been clouding me. When it rains it empowers me I try to gasp, And I feel it's my last, And I and i and I...And I miss the empowered me. And I miss my autonomy. The things that I miss, are discrepant from this. And I blame my society. I've got a lump in my throat. And I'm not just saying it. Sometimes it's hard to breath when the walls start caving in. Down in this cave I'm in... no light's invited in...No light's invited in. I’m. down. taking shelter.

|FIGURES| Figures. I gave you ride or die and you gave me games. Love figures. I know I'm cryin' 'cause you just won't change. Love figures. I gave it all and you gave me shit. Love figures. I wish I could do exactly what you did. I wish I could hurt you back. Love, what would you do if you couldn't get me back? You're the one who's gonna lose. Something so special, something so real. Tell me girl, how in the fuck would you feel? If you couldn't get me back. That's what I wish that I could do. To you, you. To you, you. Figures. I'm the bad guy 'cause I can't learn to trust. Love figures. You say sorry once and you think it's enough. I got a lineup of girls and a lineup of guys. Beggin' for me just to give 'em a try. Figures. I'm willin' to stay. 'Cause I'm sick for your love. Wish I could hurt you back. Love, what would you do if you couldn't get me back? You're the one who's gonna lose. Something so special, something so real. Tell me girl, how in the fuck would you feel? If you couldn't get me back. That's what I wish that I could do. To you, you. To you, you. Figures, shit.

|FREE|MIND Feat. Snarky Puppy| Allow yourself to lose control. Allow the air to, Invade your soul. Find a place to ease your face; to convey a state, where thought’s Embraced. The taste of fate Amalgamates, And the hate that baits becomes alleviation. A deviation from the...hum drum, hum from numb dumbs, with sums spinning out conundrums for fun. Thumbs pinning each other like in thumb war. Alums’ rum spilling and um...I suppose that I digress, from the point that I wish to state, which is to say Medidate. Consciousness. It’s not the surface that’ll hurt us. It’s the storm that swells beneath; that subconsciously disturbs us. The burden of thought cripples those without a purpose, and worse is, without it, the purse is barely worth it. It’s better then, to bend to fate, than to hate the fate that curses. For fate’s weight weighs heavily when even Heaven feel’s a burden. Absurd then... The notion of Caging a Bird in. The notion that each of us just wants to preach about what the teacher was wording. And once again, I suppose that I digress from the point that I wished to state. Which was to say, that all of this is found while being Meditative. Meditate.|

|E|SCAPE Feat. Alan Watts|

|THE|HEART|OF|SUNDAY|AFTERNOON| Sunday afternoon; some day near June - the year after the world shattered from fear of catching the flu. Soon, not only our minds but our hearts will be racing. Tracing lines between here and there... There and then...then and now...And how then? Thoughts in front or in rear breed only dread and hope. Thoughts ahead or behind feed rope down the crevice where fear hears. Still... Thoughts ahead or behind feed rope down the crevice. Here, in the Heart of Sunday Afternoon.