Idles mp3

IDLES                                STAINED GLASS EYES        
The one who laid down                Horns warn of battle          
Lured by the sirens on the hill      Don your coats of skin        
Grown soft, a doll on a stick        Stroll through the book of beaten suns
Illusion of passion with             A hazy grasp of conscious
shaking fists                        Alertness fueled by intake of motion
You used to paint angels                                    
Now trapped in decision and          The only trophies are the lines around
chasing spirits                      the eyes                          
                                     Wisdom's best left to tired minds 
Chorus:                                    
I stand my ground                    No use turning back, wind always     
(The ground is strewn with           captures sand                        
idle hands)                          Like bees in a hive of glass             
...Of dead men urging my fall        Irony flows fast                         
They line this narrow path           Bodies are accumulators of stains      
(Promising)                          and stench and scars                    
...The quick and painless            On our hunt through this random lexicon  

The one who fell behind              Chorus:                                 
Brought down by the jackals of       How old are we, when illusions are lost, 
the wayside                          And learn the wheel has no end, no      
You used to sing in harmony          seam, no pause?                       
Leaking ambition, you slept                                                 
through the dream                    Sometimes you have to breathe on 
Words void of deed                   the glass...                             
                                                                            
Chorus                               Fractional mindset predictor             
                                     Living is coping ability                 
You swallow the days                 The secret's in the details,             
Growing fat off regret               Knowing which yield poison or glory      
Yet between us and dust lay                                                   
only stolen moments                  What game do you play?                  
                                     Which rules do you need?                 
I follow the crow but fear           A grand campaign for the weary           
it's blind                                                                    
I've lost the trail, narrow          Toil, breed, and breathe with love      
and winding                          or fury                                 
Laughter from the tunnels lures      The energy's the same, only the lives    
Bait for the alone                   are changed                          
Remembering the common thread        One into another, moons to brothers     
Now dangling like intentions dead    Choose shadows or hands                  
Constructed faith in moment's worth  End unto itself, end of itself, the end  
The struggle is reward                                                      
                                     Chorus                              
Chorus                                                                        
                                     Sometimes you have to breathe on the    
                                     glass...

































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