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A Weekend With​.​.​.​.

by Marigold

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1.
You Cast me out, I'm laid aside. Like something from months gone by. Left to rot, Hung out to dry. Watching your life pass by my eyes. Sitting still, whip poor will. Hidden away but you still hear me calling saying. Times change we grow up strange. Still nothing takes this pain away. Can you make it fade take over things. Ashamed. I felt, more alive than I have in days. And Who's to say that won't change. Still hearts beating. My lungs collapsed. At Last breathing, My will, perhaps. Life's fleeting. I've all but grasp. On. White knuckles. Holding on. White knuckles. Onto nothing. White knuckles. Unable of Letting go. Ghosts of you. Haunt this room every corner has a thought of something new. I can't keep straight. My nights from days. sleep from wake. Sleep from wake You've made this air Flammable. But these walls are paper, (And blood is gasoline.)Why'd you have to come in here like fireworks. I Can't do this tonight. I need a light. I need a light.
2.
Loose Ends 03:12
Making propositions. Making plans. Never following through. on anything I ever wanted to Not a thing can make this Greyscale become anything more comforting than the thought of you. So Turn on tube. And Zone out. To Keep up the rouse. But we all knew. We all knew. The one who's hiding. Was really you. So Turn on the tube. Enjoy the view. Cause we all knew. We all knew. I had it all planned out. Every inch, (every surface) every corner, had something in it. And For future reference, Nothing worked out, Not Like I planned but then again what's new. Adapting. Growing old. Surviving. Coping. With everything that's put in front of me. Spending my whole life on this Only to build it from glass and now all I have are rocks and thoughts of the past. Losing friends. Fading trends. Loose ends. Loose ends. Nostalgic views. And scattered truths. beckon from the bottom of every bottle Between looking back, and shattered glass. I'm Scared and anxious of admitting that my past, was anything other than what I dreamed it would be. Or How ashamed I am of what you'd think of me. What kind of man I've been Inching towards the end. Remembering when. Making amends. I'm just making amends.

about

For anyone who would listen to this racket, Especially our moms.

credits

released July 16, 2014

Recorded on analog tape at Wax Tape Studios in Louisville, KY
Mixed and Mastered by Kris Hayes ( Easy Plateau Productions)

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Marigold

Sad Bastard Music from the Hills of Kentucky

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