Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

There's no use going to Des Moines
I heard it's just like here
I guess it's just like everywhere
As for us, I guess we're not immune
Look at our same plain face

Still I assume this subject identity
Shared with all the kids that qualify
And that's a pretty high percentage to embrace
But easier to clasify
'Cause all my friends are in the same target group
And all of them look like all of you

And they're restless in standstill
But they don't know where to go
They don't know...

I wish
I could dissappear
My unwhole self
Away from here
Away from here... NOW!

I don't want to let it sit around
Just make it go away
Let it cure itself, let it be a cure for us
And if I never leave this hole
Make sure you bury me here with all my dead friends
We'll make a toast to the ones who ran away

Just get me through...
Just get me through...
Just get me through....

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

Clad.

I'm wearning thin my invitation.

I'll wear it out
But it's just eight light minutes I'm offering you
We could burn up so close
We could burn to our cores.
Burn to our cores.

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

Staring up at stars
From the back seat of a stationwagon
Carving the night
Trees keep marching by
Light poles blur into a stream
Blazing laser beams

All...
These...
Stars....

My thoughts are trivial pursuits
My heart's a bomb that's been defused
What now?

There's no more use for me
I'm wasting energy
Muscles are weaklings
Thoughts just defeat me
Numbness is effortless
I could get used to this

Driving through Vermont
Overwhelmed by the insignificance
My conscience was my crutch
For a heightened existence
This other wordliness

These...
Schoolboy...
Lies....

I've been deprived reality
Brought up by holy ghosts and saints
What now?

I'm the delinquent here
I'm the contagious one
This heart is hopeless
I feel the numbness
All Hail The Atheist
I could get used to this
I could get used to this
I could get used to this
I could get used to this

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

Sweating with confidence
They're soiling our egos
And we're locked at the hip
Don't cut the cord too short

You've cut yourself off
I thought we agreed
No limb should be left
So severed and bleeding
What are you missing?
What are you missing?

A truth so disabling
Might blind my starving eyes
But weren't we locked at the hip?
You've cut the cord so short
What are you missing?
What are you missing?

You've cut yourself off
I thought we agreed
But some doctrines of faith
Can be so misleading

So what are you missing?
What are you missing?

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

When we were burning
These stained walls would swell with passion
Our sweat warped the wooden floorboards
You'd kick out the nightlight
And let the moon bleed through the window
Draping over naked bodies

We're killing time
Trying to love
What we can't find
But who does?
A drier heat than we know blistered me badly
We've all been burning out

I'll have a Gibson
My throat is dry from screaming blindly
At the wishing stars that wrecked me
They kinged me naive
Now I keep the nightlight on and watch the sweat drip from the ceiling

These summer nights
The streetlights burst flames
They screech too bright
They scream blind
A drier heat than we know blistered me badly
We've all been burning out

A drier heat than we know blistered me badly
We've all been burning... out

Warp the wooden floor
Kick out the light, kick off the bedsheets, and let the moon bleed in
Warp the wooden floor
Kick out the light, kick off the bedsheets, and let the moon bleed in

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

Our mistakes are scrawled upon the chalkboard
They're scribed across stained glass
They're posted on the billboards
A lackluster charade
And are we so naive to concede these forefathers?
Apparently we are

Well, apparently it's true
There's no slot machines past the pearly gates
Why do we kid ourselves?
We grow old and wise
We just lose our minds

The dinner is a hit
The guests are full of spirits
They gather around the husband
He's versed in party tricks
The wife is in the bedroom
Smearing her makeup, makeup, make it up
But she's got a lover on the side
Motels, cheap wine
She says "You can't base love off the pity fuck,
unless they've got a lot of money."

'Cause it's the games that we play
'Cause we need to exist
We're not humans, we're citizens
It's the one on the ground
With his hands on his heart
It's the cleavage of division
It's all jagged and jaded
But it suits us
We just fake it through

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : Such Blinding Stars For Starving Eyes

"Bon Voyage"
And promptly he hung up the phone
There was a doorbell ringing
So he snuck out onto the terrace
He said "If these were my last words,
would they even make print?
If all I had to say was simply over said
by those old heretics."
These words are counterfeit
Xeroxed off of memory
And no one's listening
Hey

Twilight dawns
All the champagne is gone
All that's left is left behind
Doorbells, still lives

"Since you're leaving
was it a hollowed out heart?
It seems like you've been yearning for some wordly position.
Somewhere you can curl up in a little ball."

It seems the world collapses
In the mother's womb
The place of birth
Where we're all condemned
It's the warm, sad, jaded end
Starving for salvation of a terrace
Drunk, tired, and alone
Farewell dead skin

These words are second-hand
They're dry
They're cracked-plastic lies
They're cheap old whores
Who wasted their lives
In search of the warmest womb

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : The Storms Of Early Summer: Semantics Of Song

Words have no feeling without loaded meanings
Words take too long to come across
Meanings are meant for defining defintions
We load them for effect, it's cheap but it's working

It's the best I've got to get your attention
I could never get your attention
I could never please you
The verses are wasted on words you won't relate to
On words you'll never hear

It's not working -- I don't feel any better
I don't feel so well
The verbal breakdown has failed
So I'm whispering secrets
Hush, hush, on the loudspeaker
Words sculpted on verse become absurd

But it's the best I've got to get your attention
I could never get your attention
I could never please you
Words so sympathetic -- symphonic, yet pathetic -- are tossed on to the song

The meaning is lost...
The meaning is lost...

Words... just... won't... work...
Words... are... slowly demeaning their meanings
Words... make... things... worse
Words... are... always repeating
Losing their meaning
These words failed
Words fail

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : The Storms Of Early Summer: Semantics Of Song

Congratulations
Looks like you've finally made it, boy
You're a real major-leaguer now
Mama must be so, so, so proud
The word around
Is that your nest was too cozy
Well, some words are like bricks
And so we build our fortresses

You're on your own now, boy
I bet you've got the whole world figured out
One man cleans up after the pony
And another man rides that pony in,
And prances around
Isn't that what you were trained for?
But your words weigh you down
You've built your nest of bricks
Built your nest of bricks...

All we are is all we'll be
We think today, we say tomorrow
All (we think) we are (today) is all (we say) we'll be (tomorrow)
All (we think) we are (today) is all (we say) we'll be (tomorrow)

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Artist : CURSIVE
Album : The Storms Of Early Summer: Semantics Of Song

Watching cars
Will anyone stop for us?
Or will we be passed by
Be passed on
The day passes away
The moment cracks along the sidewalk
And we're alone
Imagining what songs would be on our soundtrack

Maybe it's me
I've lost faith in visibility
On this street we are ghosts of the passers-by
Passive and stranded
The clouds are closing on
It's a storm watch, so beware
These cars have been known to capsize in strong winds

We've lost transmission...
We've lost transmission...

Don't tell me this is how it ends
Don't tell me this is how it ends

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