.​.​.​and silence anchored our feet in granite

by Continents.

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01:52
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02:03
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To receive a physical copy, please visit:
pikerecords.bigcartel.com (Germany)
floodhardcore.bigcartel.com (Belgium)

credits

released 09 June 2012

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about

Continents. Dresden, Germany

An attempt at bridging the gaps between desperation, aggression, hope and honesty but somehow getting stuck naked somewhere in the middle of nowhere screaming your lungs out.
a soundtrack, a tragedy, a smile.

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Track Name: adrift
among the forlorn, the battered figures of yesteryear hectically float just above the dew-soaked earth, swept by the wind toward an object mysteriously shrouded in light.
possibly the object is a place, another figure, or merely a projection of the subconscious.
possibly this unknown magnetic force has no meaning whatsoever,
possibly it contains the truth of life.
possibly a portal to another life, that delivers with it another death.
possibly the sweetest of fruits humanity could dream of sinking their teeth into.
possibly the assuring words of a mother, to not be afraid.
possibly the frigid, wordless embrace of lost love.
possibly the source of universal fate.
the bed of solace, off the edge of the gorge of despair / the intricate wiring of an obsession / a window through which the light breaks into thousands of soft fingers, caressing every inch of the body to ecstasy /
a door, behind which lies a dim chamber, the walls damp with the screams of the maimed.
the weary, callous-footed travellers of this realm, both the invited and the occasional passer-by, dare not wet their fingers in the rays / the sight alone blinds the human eye, blisters the roughest of skin, erodes
the most solemn of faces, pierces the most solid of hearts, wrestles the sharpest of minds / neither the damned nor the righteous are granted entrance in death, the ultimate sacrifice for knowledge,
consolation and love.
lifting the veil means hauling the burden of time, the burden of a species.
Track Name: to you, a thought
sketching the sun on this canvas we call our hearts.
and I’ve given in once too many times that giving up just seems so tempting.
at least it spares us the struggle of getting back on our feet.
I’m so sick of seeking refuge, of being stuck in this hollow comfort between the walls I’ve grown so close to.
becoming deaf to words around me, blind to the beauty in so many faces that have passed me by.
as we rely on others to pick up the brush and start painting, to loosen the stitches to our wounds, wipe our conscious clean of mistakes we've made.
and in the end its all were stuck with. a soundtrack, a tragedy, a smile.
maybe a house somewhere we use to call home.
a couple of dusty pictures.
this blood is our own. its vessel our home. its beat our melody. our random song (2x)
I retrace the steps back to where I began to obsess with the absolute truth that I saw in you, and “choose any part of my body to keep”, I’ll say, “but let me return with a mind and a heart open to a world that I fucking forgot while I was too busy holding on to a world I never truly needed.”
but nevertheless, I guess we´ll never be prepared for this.
and frankly, I don’t really give a shit anymore.
sadly, I merely have a handful of spare truths left.
and honestly, don’t bother to listen to me - I’ve chosen this.
standing in the cloud’s shadow it’s not too hard to recognize the chance of rain
were it not for the way it feels on our skin
were it not for for the beautiful smell.
Track Name: burnt out. spent. forgotten.
Fragile answers, echoed in vain.
I'm filling gaps, pressured to stand erect.
Aren't we all just playing our part?
What is it like to feel alive?
It seems we fade to grey too quickly nowadays.
Washed away into another roadside lake.

Living in fear of failure and disappointment, we're fucking dying.
Growing tired of a life that feels like all has been said and done.
Snapshots of a life we once led held so close to our hearts.
This is the point where I accept who I am and move on.
I've come to terms with a persistent lack of clarity.
Clear lines never really appealed to me.
I've failed to invest in relationships productively.
But I'm learning. I'm learning.

Digging deep to find the source
of patterns that have crept up unwelcomed
That have found a home in this head of mine.

And although certain doubts will remain
The tides can change with each decision we make.

I want back the anger, I want back the pain, I want back the joy in simple things.
I'd do anything,give anything.anything.anything.

Just to lose this blank stare into the night.
Just to lose this blank stare into the night.
Just to lose this blank stare into the night.
Track Name: trenches
i feel it every morning, most every goddamned night
these ties so hard to sever,
descend with tired eyes into abysses forgotten,
across distant valleys scattered with the unwritten pages of our tragedy.
Lifting the veil of the subconscience and wrestling with love and the meaning of death.

“every now and then” is fairly delusive.
possibly the toll of years of self-deceit.
unsettled, unquiet, unforgiven.
please, deprive me not of this last fragment of peace.

i've stared death into the eye,
found truth in yours long after it left.
fought for long lost emotions,
and channeled those i've repressed.
i've drawn my share of hearts in the snow,
awoken from trances of violence and sex.
i confess, most of these thoughts are just better left unsaid.
all these nights do is drain me,
oh what I wouldn't give for rest.
Track Name: where the shade and I
I could look at this for hours.
I've molded you back together from the debris.
The floor is stained with the shattered words of a memory.
We could dig through the ashes and search for syllables of expressions we've neither heard nor used in quite a while.
Reassembled, they might fill us with a familiar yet distant sense of belonging.
And then again we'll paint the walls with the blood of our wounded past.
Indulge.
The walls breath more heavily than they used to.
Between them and me there are too many broken vows.

Certainly, the lights will dim eventually
with the sound of fingernails scratching on concrete

I'm leaving for good again, no goodbyes this time.
We've crossed too many oceans in vain.

But wherever I go, you will follow me, I know.
In the shadow of love death always feels so close.

I swear the part of me I left with you is the one I've always missed the most.
And as for days without thoughts of you, yes, i recall times. I recall times. I recall times. I recall times.
During others I blame it on sleep, sounds, places or maybe just a word.
Track Name: tightening the stitches
There are hardly ever days like this
Maybe we never came as close as I felt we did
At least the sun felt good on my back
each time you said the things you said.
Or what it really meant when the silence sliced the wind
and we swallowed the words we were longing for,
not knowing where to go from here.
I felt you had the patience to want to know,
had the patience to try to unfold whatever fears I face with each breath I hold.
Leaning in to kiss your forehead
although I didn't know where exactly the tears were coming from,
whether they were even meant to show.
When you said that I was hard to read, I told you it was hard for me
to open myself uninhibitedly.
but its harder to let go when I've come so close.

This uncertainty is tearing me apart from the inside out.
Risking too much isn't worth it again. Or maybe it's the key.
Maybe we're too quick to jump to conclusions we've drawn from the past, both you and me.

And I've tried to read you, and things shift so quickly, and this is one thing that hasn't been indifferent to me. But certain patterns remind me of ones i've seen before. Stuttered words, downcast eyes and the looks your heavenly face wore. Place your heart into these hands of mine and I swear i'll be there, I might have said.

No number of days will ever erase the pain that I feel when I think of us.
No number of years will ever explain why you're too goddamn afraid.

And drowning out the noise has become the central focus of this life
Finding back to you hasn't made shit easier, hasn't made things right.

Dissected, sewn shut, the scalpel's routine.
Tightening the stitches, wiping it clean.

the lies we believe about love
the blood we draw for a taste of sin
the faith we put in constructs
the tears we shed for abstraction