1. |
SYRP MAKS CRZY
01:20
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With each breath we take, reclaimed are our distant lives. With each dying gaze, unchained are our hearts from these graves.
Untie your hands. Untie your head. Let out your breath til your lungs collapse from the weight.
With each empty breath, each death frees one more inch. As our voices set ablaze the skyline.
Tie my hands to yours. Tie my heart to yours so we don't collapse from the weight. We won't collapse from the weight.
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2. |
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Skins of snare drums smacked from sticks in balled fists while voices loop historical words run for liberation. Our lives made public by protest. Eating, sleeping, occupying the womb of the state so when capital fails, we learn to cooperate. Arms turn into steel links. Hold campouts instead of business. I brought wood for the fire in the rotunda. It will keep us warm, and Walker out.
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3. |
Bridge Burner
04:23
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Pulses race, blood leaks from veins to muscle tissue. Bodies shake from bitter cold. Our eyes, locked upon the police standing stiff as a statue above us from the top of the stairs.
Our hands bleed lead from hours of toil. Our distraught dreams were left to die. Our endless hours all were for shit. And never a time up until now has it been so clear that this cry is for everything.
Our arms are locked--they're the only weapons we own. Our breaths are condensing in the cold winter air as we raise our voices against the violence of the state, with our backs against a world of barren waste (this is all we have to claim), with our backs against the wall. This fight won't end. It never has and never can. Bound to the end, our bitter hearts will carry on.
We carry on and on, voices floating in the wind.
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