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As We Live These Extensions

by The Midwest Breaking

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1.
I walked pavement to open doors as the dust fell softly across all of your floors. we’d remembered that much, felt the kindness of its touch as we stepped through these old empty rooms. watched the cracks cut by time, held hope in our eyes not yet in ruins while the sun bleached the paint, where our memories would hang, then followed us like our ghosts always seem to do. so, yesterday we ran out into the rains. pressed to the ground we lay. you are the only thing that remains. pack the bags and board the train. a new direction but to the same place. only one now in this field. a heart sought and regained. the path forward left these ghosts back with your name. that delicate step out. enough cuts for one life. don’t call me with anything but truth. these holes just mean I’ve been moving through. this quiet street on a sunday afternoon. smiles in simple pursuits. that I’ll look back and be thankful to have moved on through. of life and history there is such a thing as being too late. procrastination is still the thief of time. life often leaves us standing there naked and dejected with a lost opportunity. the tide in the affairs of men does not remain at the flood; it ebbs. we may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage. but time is adamant to every plea and rushes on. that is an invisible book of life that faithfully records our vigilance or our neglect. we still have a choice today. the choice is ours. therefore the first hope in our inventory must be the hope that love is going to have the last word.
2.
we broke our piggy banks across weathered floors. scattered memories that we saved and watched them sink slowly between tattered and blackened staves. I guess we’re all merely beggars and thieves. struggling to let go of our own self hate. yet in time we found this inchoate fate to be beautiful so, when you let down your guard it caught me off guard. I had hoped it had meant we were finally okay… in time it all fades away. at time we’re lost in all the shades of grey and ships we sunk off the coasts of our mistakes. now the swing of this screen door, reminds us it’s winter no more. so, we’re counting these stars and wonder should we trust fate or have faith. but I’m not sure that it matters much either way cause we have each other, we have these families and friends. bonfires and fields, less cold nights and these tents…
3.
there’s a sight. that follows me through the cold. there are delicate shadows in these days in the rain. a ship through the dark off the rocky coast. damn, I miss that great old man. cause these walks, through our borrowed land. are surrounded by that void. but thank god for memories and lived lives hand in hand.and they lit up the trees without the snow. there are uncertain histories to all which we know. like our walk through this park off the north pacific coast. damn, I miss my old friend. cause these talks, about our borrowed land. are enveloped by that love. so, thank god for memories and shared lives dear families.
4.
5.
I stared down those weary eyes and sewed seams worn and wrecked from a hardened fight. there are quiet moments that I never knew were real but I guess they’ve always been here. if we’re really meant to work until we die, maybe not as steel as it rusts, but more like rivers carrying away the dust we should remember… phone calls with old tin cans and found twine cause in these years there are so many choices that have drew divides yet some say they’ve untangled crossed lines. so much we only figure out with time. I just hope that somewhere before these graves there was a fiercely lived life. because we are meant to work until we die, never as the steel nor it’s rust, but like those vespertine flowers at dusk. now I heard of subtle patterns, of colored movement where there were only grays. and it was told the disparate, where we had always lay was merely illusion if we would simply live and not wait. so, I wanted to see it move, and it did, just imperceptibly slow. imperfectly as it goes. I hoped to see you move, but you couldn’t there was just too much in tow… imperfectly is how we go
6.
sheltered sky. where we climbed. stumbled down. the other side. brief moments. time will fade. in time all things fade. gods. falls. and everything fades.
7.
we heard the rain against the windows and knew we were finally back home. we were missing our families but exited to start our own. so, we just kept rolling the dice and hell sometimes you get sent back to the start. but you never stop playing just dust yourself off and keep pace with your own heart. now I’m staring at the flicker of a backlit screen as I pull out of a garage. another 80 hour work week alone in this city with these songs. remembering the memories as that’s all now they’ll ever or can be. if I can’t see so far as to trace back the dreams will you help me with where to start cause we used to coruscate like that snow in our old home town. a local warming has dried the plains, now blank slates and empty crowds. so, we’ll just keep rolling the dice cause hell sometimes you end at the start. but we’ll never stop playing, these scars are just reminders to keep pace with your own heart.
8.
the bracing is chipping off from the resonating sounds. and the haunts from our old letters have been holding us down. and the calm before is nice but we still have to get through the storms. cause the years leave scars, so many which are never seen. and sometimes we don’t make it out from underneath. but the time has come to move past. so, let’s travel to forever. you know we’ll learn fast. of course this is crazy but hell, we’re all a little crazy anyway. now just think as a kid you didn’t worry about insurance or back up plans for your dreams. sand is sand, love is love. not a trap nor hopeless fallacy where the scars and stitches are all that’s seen. so, hold tight cause this is us embracing the unknown. if our heroes died, we mourn then grow from their seeds. if our ideals collapse. then we’ll re-sew up new seams. cause it is finally time to say and do what we mean.
9.
the letters in our old days. falling past these crooked lines. what if. if anything. do we remember. before we die.
10.
I feel like we’re the last leaf, on the last tree of the fall. and as we lose grip. gravity carries us. down with broken limbs and all. now I think if we could travel until all the sails and the lines simply break and fade. but that can only be real when the course that you set is the same. now barely half a summer has passed through. we finally found our last line the one we knew. we couldn’t get through. we’re past tense, no one ever tried like we did. ten years well spent. at least we have that to hold on to. cause time takes away. like the slowed silence of these half mast days. and in their wake. we are all left with only one real choice to accept it or ourselves fade away.

credits

released May 23, 2011

Recorded in Neskowin Oregon.
Seventeenth to Nineteenth of May.
Two Thousand + Eleven.

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The Midwest Breaking Portland, Oregon

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