We Speak The Same

Alcoa

Compositor: Derek Archambault

All i have is my crooked spine and wax paper skin
To show for the way i'll open up again.
The off white of scars at the base of my arms
And the red of the blood flowing through them.

I will cut out my heart and begin again.
With no bias or chest for it to beat in.
No bitter mouth with which to spit my pour and sour rhetoric,
Or legs to walk away and take me with them.

I don't go outside when it's raining.
It keeps me in and dry but not from complaining
Of (how) my life has been a downward slope, a poison with no antidote,
The burden that keeps my voice singing.

And i pray for the sun to be shining,
And i forget that we're all slowly dying.
I leave that burden behind that i keep trying to hide
And think 'at least my heart goes on beating.

[simultaneamente]

I/he have/has to to keep checking to make sure i'm/he's still alive.
You see lately i've/he has been feeling rather otherwise.
There's blood in the sink but it's not what you think,
The razor slipped, i/he swear/s to go that i'm/he's fine.

We have to keep drinking to make sure we're numb inside.
We find it's easier when nothing is the same twice.
So god-damn inebriated, my eyes are fucked, the colour has faded.
There's nothing more for me ruin tonight.

I'm so sick and so fucking tired.
I've accepted that i am a liar,
A cheat and a thief and i am buried beneath
My disease and my god-damn denial.

Well, i'm so tired and so fucking sick.
Death is too permanent for me to accept it.
A friend or a brother, a child, a lover..
Remember this is not an exit.

No, it's not, no, it's not!
No, no, no, no..

And i'm trying not to be so god-damn dramatic.
Acting like everything is so, so traumatic.
Got to calm down, walk a steady pace,
And try to hide my second face
And learn (that) life ain't so fucking tragic.

But my lack of will is a little disconcerting.
I'm not proud of the way i've been living.
Before i should go, i just want you to know:
Don't follow walking cause i will start running.