Paper Crane

by deadpoets.

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released May 15, 2014

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deadpoets. Melbourne, Australia

Honest music for dishonest people.

deadpoets.
We write songs about our lives and yours from a bedroom in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne.

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Track Name: Paper Crane I: The Glass Flower
I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I cannot breathe and I cannot dream. Lusting after that cold, open air, travelling lonely on a road to nowhere. And here we lie, together yet still so alone; that heart you carry, I feel it breaking in my bones, and if this glass flower, decides to shatter, while saving every shard I’ll bleed, to show you it still matters. Or do we wade endlessly, inside a sea that’s never parting? Like helpless children, amongst the blue, they’re going under, but it’s not the tide that takes you. It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret that there may have been, something left. Alas, I digress, so I’ll tell that old familiar tale, of that wooden ship, smashed on the rocks, that never had set sail. I am the captain. You were the lighthouse. I was the captain. You are the lighthouse. Bright light, blinding white, leading me to another sleepless night. And with no sleep, comes no release, another night, following your light. Our dreams tell us the secrets we keep, even from ourselves. They’re keys we can’t escape, like your old familiar smell. And if seeing is believing, then we, must be blind. Putting that flower back together is what’s truly worth your time. But I never sleep, because it’s the regret. And I never did, but I should’ve said…

"Let me tell you all the things that I need to.
I want to sail away on the waves with you.
Would that be something that you might want to do?
We could live as one, instead of as two."
Track Name: Paper Crane II: Insomniac Blues
And if you followed those dreams you, held so closely… And if you followed your dreams, they would have shown you. And if you followed those dreams you, held closely… And if you followed your dreams, they’d have taken you to me. It’s not a memory. It’s not that you didn’t take the chance. It’s not a glass half empty. It’s not the miles in the distance. It’s not that shattered flower, nor the seconds in the hours. It’s not accepting our defeat. It’s not ‘we used to be a you and me’.
It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret. It’s the regret that there still is, something left.
Track Name: Fox Bones
I set myself in motion, a search for truth in something more than I could ever find from you. And somewhere promise has to meet purpose, where all our hopes have buried themselves beneath the surface.
My arms are tired from holding up the sun, my hands are blistered and are starting to burn, but I said that I would light the way for us and so I'll burn my body to dust.
I am choking on words I never could have swallowed or spoken.
I am biting down on the tongue and tasting the blood from holding back, a way to distract my wondering mind. Clarity is hindsight's curse, but there's a change coming in the weather. Now we both must stand on the edge of emptiness, don't fear the world you foresee.
Your fears will set you free.
My arms are tired from holding up the sun, my hands are blistered and are starting to burn, but I said that I would light the way for us and so I'll burn my body to dust.
Track Name: If You Are The Cure, Then I Am The Curse
We’ve seen broken walls, broken windows, lonely halls. We’ve held broken hearts, in broken hands, can we ever start again? I was trying to gather my thoughts, but they kept slipping through my fingers. I thought I was moving on, but this memory still lingers. What are we supposed to think when day after day after day after day, no matter how hard we try, we just can’t stay away?
Give me the substance that gives me some substance. All I’m chasing is a little peace of mind, a little piece of my mind. Negativity is a sickness we might never overcome. Fleeing from the demons putting ideas inside our minds, we were one with the pavement that carried us away. From the lights and sounds, in leaps and in bounds, a city behind us flooding with pity and sorrow without hope for tomorrow.
We slept in the river beds and awoke with the mountains, listening to stories of their foundations.
And how the mess inside of our heads shouldn’t follow us to bed, for when we dream is when we see just exactly what we need.
I know now, how much I never knew and that all ever I need is just to hold you. Negativity is a sickness we might never overcome, but if you are the cure then I am the curse, and I swear that I will love you through your best and through your worst.
Track Name: Blood In The Dirt And Old Sant Antonino Stories
By now I would’ve thought we’d have found a better way to live. One where we understand how to love and forgive. Where nothing lasts forever, we could make this last forever. And I’m not saying that we’ll find all of the answers, but at least we’re asking all of the questions. But even when you follow that yellow brick road, it’s so easy to lose your way if you refuse to be shown. Are you searching for something, someone or yourself? Well, well, I guess it must not come as a surprise that the world is freezing over, and I’m not talking about ice, it’s you and me and it’s each other. Let that bleak, black hole in your chest encompass everything you are and turn your back on all the rest. Even a cold heart still beats, it still has to beat, but I can’t feel a pulse. The Devil’s greatest trick was convincing me he did not exist, but now I see that the Devil is inside of me. So if we consider every solitary moment combined (and) lay them end to end on the timeline of our lives, then there’s nothing that anyone has done to us, that we had never done to ourselves.
I’ve been tracing the lines in the sand, back and forth, again and again through the distance. They’ve been written in the blood of my name and now I can see them clearly written in my veins and the page. Who you are is as much about where you’re from as it is about where you’re going. If I ever hope to discover what it means to be me, I must first learn to be free; a product of individuality, not another shade of someone else’s scenery. I’m looking backwards to start looking forwards. Discovering who I am, where I’m from and where my story was begun. I am whole.
Track Name: The Sunset Spectre
As the sun fades away, swallowed by rolling Western hills, their greedy teeth taking light from our eyes, we’re not alone tonight. I know you’ll be waiting in my bed, to sink your teeth into my thoughts, to weave your way inside my head, an everlasting ribbon tying knots. As the moon finds its way, amongst the stars that have spilled, themselves across our night sky, we’re not alone tonight. What is this feeling? This feeling of sinking? What is this longing? For the siren song you forever sing. Filling your bones with these moths, they never fly off, like the dust on a memory book and feeling the cover is rough; the pages crumble as I slide my fingers between them, like your lip in my teeth; the desperation to remember. Time doesn’t turn the same way anymore, the seconds are hours, the hours are days, my days are a haze and the months fade away. Years piled up like old books on their shelves, the words ring in my ears like church bells, and those piles grow taller while I become smaller, in the face of moving on, in the sound of singing different songs. They say come along, your mind may be weak but your body is strong. But here I am, collapsed in my heap, my head in my hands, falls between my knees. Permit me to pluck myself of this world, like the strings of your lyre, and summon the strength for a final duet, our bodies together on fire. Are you of another world? How beautifully you dance in that body of light. Are you the ghost? A sunset spectre to sing sweet lullabies of goodnights?
Track Name: If Our History Is Not As Whole, There's A Hole In His Story
When winter’s hands come around again and reach for the trees, to choke them of their strength and steal away their leaves
Is that a moment that we can transpose, to our own selves and our own woes? Or are we so different that those trees are so alone?
We are all falling trees in an empty wood with nobody around, with nobody around to hear us make a sound
And that in itself speaks volumes of the human condition, that we’re constantly surrounded by each other yet still something is missing
It took me 2 years and 1 month to work this one out for myself, what it truly means to say “in sickness and in health", because not all sickness is of our bodies and it’s so much more than just feeling melancholy, it’s that overwhelming feeling of regret that infects and inflects, and no matter how hard we try to pull ourselves out, we digress and regress into a deeper mess
And it takes more strength than you can muster in those tired old bones, and it takes more than just a family to make a house a home
Our genetics aren’t written into our bodies with a predisposition to make us lovers, all in all the same, as it takes more than just generics to call someone father or mother
Creating life has no purpose if that life can find itself lost at an intersection and you aren’t there to help it find direction, it’s about your connection and somehow that always seems to go unmentioned
And it’s beyond definition but still deserves your recognition, for when we forget the power that a handshake, a hug or even a smile can give, then we’ve already made the wrong decision, like a voluntary incision in your own wrist, a self-made symbol of another opportunity missed
And in that instance, somewhere in that missed chance, you’ve taken the wrong turn, toward voluntary hurt and disappointment, and we wear it on our faces like a rash for which there is no ointment, because how could we not see it? How can we not see just how much we’re all suffering, somehow?
And it takes more strength than you can muster in those tired old bones, and it takes more than just a family to make a house a home
And it takes more strength than you can muster in those tired old bones, and it takes more than just a family to make a house a home
Our genetics aren’t written into our bodies with a predisposition to make us lovers, all in all the same, as it takes more than just generics to call someone father or mother
Finally, I worked out why they always keep a bible in the top drawer of hotel rooms and they’re no longer held in front of brides and grooms
When we’re alone and far from home, we are forced to confront ourselves and admit to our own hell, it’s the one that we create for our self that fosters all our spite and hate
And they will try to tempt you further away from who you are with a promise of god and heaven, but the only heaven worth dying for is the heaven we all live in
It’s all written in the subtext of those hotel books, that you’ll never find yourself no matter how hard anyone looks, and we all have to believe, so believe in something, just never believe in yourself and become more than nothing
But believing in ourselves is where our journey begins, finding ourselves is finding the right direction to take those first steps in, finding someone else is to find yourself in the perfect position, and the only heaven worth dying for is the heaven we all live in.