1. |
Interludes
02:16
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2. |
By Neon Light
04:48
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Voices are sounding but nothing is said,
Music is pulsing, it's filling my head.
Bodies are twisting, heads starting to spin,
Lights are blinding,
Me and the hormones are starting to rise,
Strangers are kissing, averting their eyes.
Sealed away in discrete public displays,
It's a heat haze.
Bass is pulsing through the floor,
Architecture, gaping maws,
Shadowed throngs enclosing us,
Beautifully anonymous!
---
String the cables to fuel the stars,
And static noises in vodka bars.
Nameless faces that fade from sight,
Flitting through the night, by neon light.
---
Two in the morning, the city is dead,
Streetlights and whispers can fill it instead.
All around me a kaleidoscope plays,
It's the ghost phase.
Dim orange lighting casts a murky glow,
Light to touch faces I don't even know.
Mannequin throngs walking an empty street,
Shuffling, to the beat.
Bass is pumping through the walls,
Even as the silence falls,
Power travels through the stone,
We're half awake, but we're not alone!
---
City breathing beneath the stars,
With sounds of sirens and motorcars,
Endless colours that blur to white,
We outshine the night, by neon light.
---
By neon light. x4
---
Through the silence we hear the stars,
An urban nightmare; at least it's ours.
Let the pleasure and pain unite,
Screaming out so bright, by neon light.
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3. |
Nightflier
03:54
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4. |
Become
04:13
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Time to wake up,
I sleep and wake and sleep too much,
My eyes have had enough,
They're sick of sight, and light to touch.
Again,
Can't go through the dark again.
This will not be the end,
Again.
Reaching around again,
Speak to be found again,
My fingers are growing cold,
And into my eyes I fold,
My apathy questions when,
When I will become again.
Quiet as we float,
The castle's built around the moat.
A broken antidote,
The song is played without the notes.
Find them, find them,
Read and recite:
Time,
Time will come again,
I will become again.
Lonely until the end,
But free to become again.
Ever around the bend,
Darkness will fade again.
Consciousness on the mend,
I will become again.
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5. |
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Blackhole London, UK
Physical entity that makes sounds sometimes.
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