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Between The Buried And Me

Extremophile Elite

 

Extremophile Elite

(album: The Parallax II: Future Sequence - 2012)


To see one's self is hard to explain.
Last night was the first notion of this.
Once again, real life and dreams are whirling among one another.
Space flight navigator.
A walking mirror.
Galaxy drifter.
Entwined together.
To grasp the other hand.
To hear the other speak.
Space flight navigator.
A walking mirror.
Galaxy drifter.
Entwined together.
To grasp the other hand.
To hear the other speak.
Carve one's skin out of their own soil.
Sends chills throughout my body.
Carve one's skin out of their own soil.
Sends chills throughout my body.
Wake up, wake up to a dirt covered surrounding.
Machines, machines in the distance.
Wake up, wake up to a dirt covered surrounding.
Machines, machines in the distance.
Something far too familiar.
The world comes to a screeching halt when I cover my ears.
Lift off the hands and the claws work again.
Digging graves.
Deeper graves.
Digging graves.
Deeper graves.
The machines deafen my ears with such extremity.
Constant maze from digging graves.
I bury my head in the dirt.
It all stops.
This sends bliss throughout, throughout me.
Upside down dreaming.
The sound of Earth soothes my entire body.
Upside down dreaming.
The sound of Earth soothes my entire body.
Upside down dreaming.
The sound of Earth soothes my entire body.
Upside down dreaming.
The sound of Earth soothes my entire body.
Real life and dreams are whirling.
A hand lifts my head out of the dirt.
Pulling hairs from what seems to be my brain.
I see him... me... us?
The walking mirror.
Eyes slowly open as dust clouds surround me.
Surround me.
Surround me.
Speak to me freely.
I am listening.
Surround me.
Speak to me freely.
I am listening.
The clanking of machines scream in the distance.
I strain in order to get up.
Soon I stumble down a dirt hill and see a buried man.
Just his skull is underground.
Once again, real life and dreams are whirling among one another.
Walking into a certain state of...
Walking into a certain state of...
Walking into a certain state of desperation.
Walking into a certain state of...
Walking into a certain state of...
Walking into a certain state of desperation.
Carve one's skin out of their own soil.
Sends chills throughout my body.
Carve one's skin out of their own soil.
Sends chills throughout my body.
It is a corpse.
Something is buried where his head once lay.
A note... my note.
My hands shake and I fall to my knees.
Slowly read... "Please know, I love..."

Fatto

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