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sparks of early flint

from New Age Baby Faced Wisdom by Hareld

/

lyrics

PART 1:

Scream through nature,

Red pencil on paper,

Face you forgot like the back cover of Fader,

That place you lost, wrong turns make you a taker,

It’s hard to spot – hidden among that vapor,

But it hung, a voice you heard in a chamber,

It pushed and shoved – and made it’s way out from strangers,

On tips of tongues – whenever they wish for makers,

Our minds among -- the portraits we make as painters,



Alice in Wonderland, malice we understand,

Sell, sell, that fairytale, lets push it like its contraband,

See, it’s the hidden brand, hear it’s the silent hand,

The promise land, where nothing promised ever makes you happy man,



So the voice turns to an echo,

Resounding, it never lets go,

It’s sounding so instrumental,

Grows fiery and elemental,

Ground gets scorched,

Footsteps grow coarse,

And it comes no remorse,

Tour de force of a pale horse.



PART 2:

There is a figment trapped inside your pigment,

That pales in comparison to messages you're sending,

You are a vision – You are a misprint,

Distorted, extended,

Dissident descendant.



Watch your front. Watch your front.

Eyes off the stunts. That witch don’t hunt.



PART 3:

We got bees in our mouths, p's in our vowels,

These trees seize winds when we howl,

Bend with a growl,

We show teeth when we smile,

“Stay for a while”,

We dress well for the wild, foolish and styled,



Say speak of the devil -- and he’ll appear,

Like how I talk about me -- and I am always here,

Like if my eyes got clear -- I ignored the veneer,

I’d see maybe the truth is I’m right there in my mirror.



That black mirror, apathetic and ever near,

It can’t get anymore clear, I’m obsidian and a sneer,

Like – look at me – I see the man of the year –

Where every day’s my premier,

Nothing matters I’m here!



So when the trees catch fire and the Earth becomes a star,

Here we are, yes we are, let us watch it from a far,

Where we’re blind, intertwined in the heavens of our mind ​

​

And we wind, lost in time, in a world of our design,



PART 4:

They say yes – amen -- beginning of the end,

I’m a sin -- living sin -- like can we begin again?

Where’ve I been? – Where’ve I been? – I close my eyes and count to ten,

I pretend, I pretend --- I’m not some ghost of dust and wind,

In my skin, floating lands, fragments in my oxygen,

life that lives, trapped within, cages of my skeleton,

--How is it then, whisperings, that no man is an island,

When they speak, seek their hymns, of the magic in my limbs,

How is it any different then – How is it any different then???

Living our lives on heads of pins, On pins and needles we suspend,

These beliefs, that we seek -- the idea we might transcend,

Like the sparks of early flint, I’m lit by thoughts of my coffin,

Chain of islands will align and set my eyes to my limits,

Where my sight will realize there is light there that can’t dim,

Has a tint, so vibrant, lit by sights beyond its fringe,

Move in close, knowing so, brinks are only horizons,

The edge is only horizon… the edge is only horizon.

credits

from New Age Baby Faced Wisdom, released October 7, 2016

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