Demo 4101
by Braeburn
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Digital Album
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Jonjon's here?
03:38
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credits
released 23 January 2011
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for 
- Track Name: Polygons
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My Shoes
They squeak and they squeak and they squeak and they squeak all day
And I don't know, I don't know what to say
Cause the squeaking cancels out every word my mouth makes
Maybe it's my ankles
I think it's my ankles
These constant noises keep me awake
But I know that silence never helps me sleep
So it must be these fucking feet of mine
It has to be, it has to be
Because I
Change my shoes when I get home
And I still feel alone
This fucking sound has made a dome
and if I changed my shoes you wouldn't know. - Track Name: Orphansong
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Recalling upon your gaze
Vacuums, always eating
and finally
you find me feeding
But when those eyes do fall down (don't worry, it's dark out)
they meet mine and become a frown(it's still dark out)
Because my eyes never move
from mirrors and bedposts that always point to you
and when
When I follow them
When I follow
When I follow I fall
Into my petulant pride (broken, we're broken)
(I know) you got those letters I never sent
and you knew exactly what they meant:
the film canisters have pinholes
but don't worry we're locked away tight, away from the light (we're safe here)
But feel free to come close, to expose
this coffin keeps me common
christ, it keeps me common. - Track Name: Chris is Always Late
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Remember that year?
It was a cold one
When warmer walls
Led us to the door
Where we found brighter years in your basement
And as the world spun
I saw a glossed one
and tried to chase it
Till it evaded
and boy, it evaded
and now it's faded
How did I miss that?
Present day:
you've heard me say, from the cellar, "When does it get better?"
Standing, you shrug, "Never"
Door closes.
I would rather not find you standing
this time - Track Name: Jonjon's here?
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Stubborn simple seeds (the score is not tied)
That won't break dirt (I'm tired of losing)
I've found that their life (but in my mind)
Is one of less hurt (I've found I'm winning)
In a shallow grave, birthplace
Their concepts of green leaves are not colored
Standing upright stalks (the walls are closing in)
Wither like we (like they tend to)
So I'll make a case to gray my eyes (but I've been here)
and dig a hole to sleep
Because I would rather sleep in solitary
Than wear your face
But I will not find
A safer place to rest (this is my spree)
My eyes are already (now I can't find)
Accustomed to color (a way to see me)
As stupid as it seems
I've only dealt in dreams
And I won't walk with you on streets
Remember, you only count when I'm asleep
(I will be stone)
