a quarrel, a clash,
a bled bombast antagonist.
Mind the brute,
led bellied beast,
you can't conquer your hands, your feet.
You won't believe whatever you've got.
I know you're right but you know you're not,
I know the fight that we weren't taught.
It's hard to say, it's hard to fake it.
Better we blend than sever our fear,
I've got a risk seeming insincere.
Could it appear it's all just unclear
until entropy makes us its team?
Where from? Above!
Snow falls down from.
Where to? Care not,
I'll try listening,
I won't pretend I've done it right.
Aged wine, red lyre.
Tight fist, righteous.
Play fair, lie down.
Recording, Mixing, Mastering: Jeremy Chereskin and Couch Jackets at Million Yen Studios - Chicago, IL