1. |
||||
“Plasticine flesh, and the first pound’s free!”
There never was much left to see
In this maze of mangled mirrors and discarded dreams.
It’s an easy sell to a broken boy.
Fill him with drugs. Show him dangerous toys.
Shame his tenderness. Teach him to destroy.
Was a real life ever lived here?
Has a real love ever grown?
I’m waiting on the answers.
I can’t find them on my own.
And this impulse pounds against the skulls
Of the hollow-hearted who know how dull,
How dark, and depraved is the way of the world we know:
Hide in the warmth of a chemical haze
Or go out bloody with a desperate blaze.
We scratch at the walls immersed in a sinister glow.
Was a real life ever lived here?
Has a real love ever grown?
I’m waiting on the answers.
I can’t find them on my own.
We are drawn by an unknown fire,
To rise alive and reach for something so divine.
But we’re tied, and chained, and wired,
Going blind and learning how to lose our minds.
Seduced by color with no substance,
We’re buried with the madness of a thousand eons.
And we writhe, helpless, in the spider’s web,
Bound in blood and breathing lethal neon.
|
||||
2. |
||||
I see trees of green. Red roses, too.
One day we’ll burn them down to get a better view
Of the searing city lights, to silence voices in the night,
Maybe find a face on which to place our fear so we can fight.
It’s just not right. And I won’t sleep tonight.
I see factory flames and graveyard gates.
We seem to hear the ones who warn us fifty fucking years too late.
The drums of war pound out again. We’ll turn a blind eye to the sins
That break the brand new hearts that Heaven holds against the vanity of men.
Will you think of them when your saints go marching in?
God help us all, we’re hostages.
We clutch the gun and cast the blame.
We’ll drive ourselves the full six under,
But I don’t think they’ll know our names.
And if there’s still a way for anything
To live here when we’re through,
I hope they build a shining monument,
And engrave it, “don’t let it be you.”
I see waves of blue and clouds of white.
The putrid fumes of burning bone will turn the daytime into night.
Another place, another time, we still watch Babel’s spire climb
To conquer without conscience, and leave the young to suffer for her crimes.
God help us all, we’re hostages.
We clutch the gun and cast the blame.
We’ll drive ourselves the full six under,
But I don’t think they’ll know our names.
And if there’s still a way for anything
To live here when we’re through,
I hope they build a shining monument,
And engrave it, “don’t let it be you.”
|
||||
3. |
Evening
02:47
|
|||
Soft hearts don’t remain very long.
Sharp minds don’t stay sane very long.
And all the wide-eyed wonder in the world won’t be enough
To help me find the silver lining in the rain very long.
Heroes don’t prevail very long.
Kind winds don’t fill the sails very long.
And when this hellish forest highway diverges into unmarked paths,
It’s hard to hold the tried, and true, and tested trail very long.
But there are moments, bright and incorruptible,
Where the promise of a better world flashes in an innocent eye.
There are moments - there’s something indestructible.
It hangs like a brazen, grand banner under a clearing sky.
Once in a while, on the crest of a crashing wave,
I can see the storm cloud’s edge, and almost reach out and touch
The crimson clouds on the edge of evening.
|
||||
4. |
|
|||
Midnight Sun, I know you must be shining,
Even as the mourning mother turns her face.
Heavy hangs our shame on the mantle of this moment.
Oh, to rise and glimpse the dream above disgrace.
Seasons turn, though winter’s sad travailing
Rolls my ragged soul against the stone.
And surely love, in silent sleeping power,
Will claim the crown and call the children home.
If I had the view from Olympus,
Where planets dance in God’s eye,
I know I’d see only beauty,
But that hill is so hard to climb.
If time, in all of her wisdom,
Would lift me up to look below,
I know that rest would come so easy,
But it’s hard to live with so much left unknown.
Tower of every hope, You must be standing,
Though the thunder and the smoke withhold a sign.
This path of paper lanterns spirals up to meet Your eyes.
I believe the madness only masks design.
Keeper of broken hearts, I know You’ve seen us
Through the tears of every eye that is our own.
And I know that sacred flame waits to ignite, embrace, and lead us,
And remind us we will never walk alone.
If I had the view from Olympus,
Where planets dance in God’s eye,
I know I’d see only beauty,
But that hill is so hard to climb.
If time, in all of her wisdom,
Would lift me up to look below,
I know that rest would come so easy,
But it’s hard to live with so much left unknown.
___________________________________________________
Glorious, the years are glorious.
And they give back just as much as all they take from us.
And when the wheel comes ‘round,
I know I will be found
Beautiful, so bright and beautiful -
Carried on the patient grace of every push and pull.
And I won’t count the cost
To reclaim the heart of all I’ve lost.
Wondrous, the world is wondrous.
And there’s beauty burning all around and inside of us.
And the silver in the thunderstorm, you know,
Is the flower of the field that waits to grow.
Radiant, the future’s radiant.
And tomorrow sings of promise when our spirits can’t.
And there’s a day that lies in wait to make things new.
When it comes is really up to you.
___________________________________________________
Where questions burn and shadows fall,
I know that fear can make a monster of us all.
And when storms come that veil the stars,
It’s so easy to lose sight of who we are.
Disfigured and afraid,
In the panicked crimson glow,
We weep and draw the blade,
Terrified that we’re alone,
But we’re not alone.
Where ashes fly and burdens bind,
The call may come to leave your innocence behind.
But you can stand. You can defy.
You can refuse to lose the love that’s in your eyes.
We strive not with the man,
But the tyrant in his mind
That guides his trembling hand
And leaves the whole world blind.
And I think it’s time.
The Earth is waking from her slumber,
And passion pours out of the dream.
The mountains shake with raptured thunder.
And from the flood, we’ll come out clean.
There’s a place that some call Heaven.
You know, it’s here inside us now.
And when we reach for every begging, bleeding hand,
I think we’ll understand and learn to make it there somehow.
|
Great Wide Nothing Atlanta, Georgia
Synthy, cinematic prog-punk from Atlanta
linktr.ee/greatwidenothingatl
Streaming and Download help
If you like Great Wide Nothing, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp