distant clockwork
Distant clockwork carving me in the dark
I constantly relive false odyssey, toxic nostalgia
Migraine of memories to throw me off balance
A ballad of pareidolia
An ocean of faces, I'm lost in
The solemn graces of condemnation and contemplation
Understatement: I'm bed bound or I'm on the pavement
It's underrated, this sitting silent to process pain with
The heavy weight of our copper chains and nickel braces
If I ain't got the metal, then I ain't got the stomach
I ain't got time to worry, I ain't got time to plummet
Coz chasing paper's priority, though the pain's abundant
So, swallowed sorrow's a cheap sour to chase the rum with
I drink sorrel and Maggies
Yardie babby
Old J and some Wray and Neph
Bacardi, gladly
I'm hardly aggy when wavy baby, I'm party Sami
But part of Sami's afraid to face the darkness
There's plenty of dark in solitary
Got a mean streak
Chronology was not a dream, peak
It's clockwork, stitches of seconds woven in time
Velocity: threading the needle under the light at night
Or under the knife, or over the limit
Sometimes, being this delicate, feels like a gimmick of mine
Resurface memories of anger suppressed
I'm phlegmatic, but the phlegm still weighs on my chest
Avoidant personality, even in therapy,
I hide behind my nicety, coz kindness is heavy
I small talk about my website and doing my tax
Relaxed session, I felt guilty for not bleeding with passion
Am I disingenuous for not leading with trauma
Or is the need to confess part of being disordered?
It's all a blur, it's all me I weep with discomfort at feeling comfortable
I feel I'm looking for something
Next to nothing fits a singular box
I tore my borders apart, still, I'm in shock
I am the calm and the storm, sun and the moon
I am a landscape evolving, ever in bloom, ooh
Next to nothing is an innocent flex
I tore down the old throne - shit's complex
I saw the pain in the pedestal, the myth it reflects
I can't let the world in if I'm holding my breath
Now in the distance, small silhouette of a stranger
Moves into frame for a glimpse
Glitch in the image of self as consistent
Trust this flux is an honest depiction
Silence: my default destructive behaviour
I run from conflict, attention, danger
Deprive myself of communication
But this dry numbness ain't the same as safety
Only you draw the boundaries you live with
And if they are crossed then you don't owe forgiveness to anyone
Except for yourself
The core of a dark-light chaotic shell
Self-aware or self-conscious?
Self-care or self-construct?
Self-deprecate, but is "self" responsible if pessimist's prophecy is self-fulfilling?
Uh
It's chilling to know thyself
To know how to listen to the clockwork well
To embrace taking up space and being held
To walk that crossroad, back from hell
Uh
Next to nothing fits a singular box
I tore my borders apart, still, I'm in shock
I am the calm and the storm, sun and the moon
I am a landscape evolving, ever in bloom, ooh
Next to nothing is an innocent flex
I tore down the old throne - shit's complex
I saw the pain in the pedestal, the myth it reflects
I can't let the world in if I'm holding my breath
Now in the distance, small silhouette of a stranger
Moves into frame for a glimpse
Glitch in the image of self as consistent
So I trust this flux is reality
I constantly relive false odyssey, toxic nostalgia
Migraine of memories to throw me off balance
A ballad of pareidolia
An ocean of faces, I'm lost in
The solemn graces of condemnation and contemplation
Understatement: I'm bed bound or I'm on the pavement
It's underrated, this sitting silent to process pain with
The heavy weight of our copper chains and nickel braces
If I ain't got the metal, then I ain't got the stomach
I ain't got time to worry, I ain't got time to plummet
Coz chasing paper's priority, though the pain's abundant
So, swallowed sorrow's a cheap sour to chase the rum with
I drink sorrel and Maggies
Yardie babby
Old J and some Wray and Neph
Bacardi, gladly
I'm hardly aggy when wavy baby, I'm party Sami
But part of Sami's afraid to face the darkness
There's plenty of dark in solitary
Got a mean streak
Chronology was not a dream, peak
It's clockwork, stitches of seconds woven in time
Velocity: threading the needle under the light at night
Or under the knife, or over the limit
Sometimes, being this delicate, feels like a gimmick of mine
Resurface memories of anger suppressed
I'm phlegmatic, but the phlegm still weighs on my chest
Avoidant personality, even in therapy,
I hide behind my nicety, coz kindness is heavy
I small talk about my website and doing my tax
Relaxed session, I felt guilty for not bleeding with passion
Am I disingenuous for not leading with trauma
Or is the need to confess part of being disordered?
It's all a blur, it's all me I weep with discomfort at feeling comfortable
I feel I'm looking for something
Next to nothing fits a singular box
I tore my borders apart, still, I'm in shock
I am the calm and the storm, sun and the moon
I am a landscape evolving, ever in bloom, ooh
Next to nothing is an innocent flex
I tore down the old throne - shit's complex
I saw the pain in the pedestal, the myth it reflects
I can't let the world in if I'm holding my breath
Now in the distance, small silhouette of a stranger
Moves into frame for a glimpse
Glitch in the image of self as consistent
Trust this flux is an honest depiction
Silence: my default destructive behaviour
I run from conflict, attention, danger
Deprive myself of communication
But this dry numbness ain't the same as safety
Only you draw the boundaries you live with
And if they are crossed then you don't owe forgiveness to anyone
Except for yourself
The core of a dark-light chaotic shell
Self-aware or self-conscious?
Self-care or self-construct?
Self-deprecate, but is "self" responsible if pessimist's prophecy is self-fulfilling?
Uh
It's chilling to know thyself
To know how to listen to the clockwork well
To embrace taking up space and being held
To walk that crossroad, back from hell
Uh
Next to nothing fits a singular box
I tore my borders apart, still, I'm in shock
I am the calm and the storm, sun and the moon
I am a landscape evolving, ever in bloom, ooh
Next to nothing is an innocent flex
I tore down the old throne - shit's complex
I saw the pain in the pedestal, the myth it reflects
I can't let the world in if I'm holding my breath
Now in the distance, small silhouette of a stranger
Moves into frame for a glimpse
Glitch in the image of self as consistent
So I trust this flux is reality
Credits
Writer(s): Samiir Saunders
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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