A Season for Conversation

6/26/2009 06:32:00 PM / Posted by Iron Lung / comments (0)

Table Talk
produced by Skott Phree Written by Iron Lung

No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard.
No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.

I inhale mist eye candy in a second it took to split Adam from evening’s “just checking” phone call. I hope I’m not interrupting, but secretly I’m wishing I’m the only thing you’re bumping at the moment. Filling up your disc changer, leaving no space for involuntary movements trading nods with the bass, break neck head banger. As if my owns sounds could really fill your place, but stop for a minute and continue on a level more secure and well suited for what I’m trying to say. (I just want to talk for a minute) not dabble in the obvious excuse for the reason that I can’t forget your face. Is there any other way? I guess it isn’t that unusual, this late in the game I’m still so mercurial. I wish I could change at least for your benefit. Maybe then we wouldn’t struggle, maybe then we’d get it.

(This is table talk) No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard. (This is table talk) No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.
(This is table talk) Your one step process neatly back peddles when faced with past objects.
(This is table talk) You’re your own worst mention ‘cause no one hates you more then your very own reflection

Words smiled slowly as our souls kissed connect the dots of our thoughts with a punch and a sip of ill fated coffee, table talk conversations, acting on behalf of my ill matched patience. Your eyes spoke a thousands flirts at a million ticks per second asking for the right combination for acceptance. A little off-putting; dry humor is a must and she must have hobbies to help fortify her love. Things went cool ‘til your hand touched my thigh as if you were to skip the scene when the hero kissed the sky. That’s the purpose, the whole reason for reversal and the counter fortune offer was the catastrophic carpool lane version of the truth viewed through Hollywood eyes; skewed plot twist, now read between the lines. (I was like bitch please!) I know better then to let you try and sweet and low your way right into my bedroom

(This is table talk) No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard. (This is table talk) No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.
(This is table talk) Your one step process neatly back peddles when faced with past objects.
(This is table talk) You’re your own worst mention ‘cause no one hates you more then your very own reflection

Now if we could only teach clocks to run in reverse I would have a better chance to find the right words. We’d be better off and not so awkwardly positioned with a knife at each other’s throat ready to slit. I stand before you now, no mask, no guards. No need to flex ability, no need for false security. Maybe once we’re stripped down to bare elements we can ready the foundation necessary for a “You & Me”. I used to rush into decisions, jump to a conclusion; negotiate us backwards just to agitate delusions so you’d get tired and lead us slow into temptation. So you can blame yourself, I got no time for wasting. Kissing on my ego hoping that I learned a lesson but there was no resolution. You had no hesitation to show bedroom eyes pillow top constellations leading back to comfortable table talk conversations.

(This is table talk) No cause for alarm I saw you shatter the glass; your pain was too hard. (This is table talk) No need for you to mention how your self-inflicted pain reflects upon my patience.
(This is table talk) Your one step process neatly back peddles when faced with past objects.
(This is table talk) You’re your own worst mention ‘cause no one hates you more then your very own reflection

A Season of Reflection

6/26/2009 06:28:00 PM / Posted by Iron Lung / comments (0)

Mirrors Facing Mirrors
Produced and written by Iron Lung

I can stare into your soul, I can see right through you. I can string along a sentence; I can puppeteer your mood. I can ask the wrong questions, only malice for intention and pick at all the flaws only visible to you. This is so pedantic, borderline sacrilegious as the attacks start to form something slightly cohesive. Consider this my thesis, the only glowing pieces, fragmented phrases in the midst of non-sequiters. Isn’t this lovely? Eking through the murky troubled waters later proved to be the bane of your existence. Although the ripples may deform the image, the essence in the wake is still original in pigments and somehow stays proactive. I only show the present, you’re the one how was to explain what really happened as you try to stay attractive. Fatal flaws and killer instinct were all parts included in the package.
“You and me, we’re in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow.”
Another day gone by another chance to miss the segment of the daily periodical set aside with sole intention to cause slight depression on the weakest of the souls by laying out your dreams to poke fun at all your goals. Too many times we have drawn the same conclusion thinking only separation could be the right solution. The more space expands the more reflections we propose that we can change for the better but the lies are just our own and we believe them; these self-correcting versions of alternatives to facing all of the disillusions in a mundane existence. I know you’ve been a witness first hand to everything within this chronic illness. I know that I’m your rock, I know that I’m your crutch, I know I represent everything you wish you was. I wish that you could see the beauty in destruction, ‘cause once we hit the bottom, the only way is up.
“You and me, we’re in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow.”
Don’t try and look away I know you can’t ignore that uneasy feeling that this just isn’t normal and leaning into something that you’d rather not mention as to not give it attention and then focus on shame. I am not amazed that you’re still scared to face everything that you’re becoming this is no mistake. As if you really needed anymore self-assurance, I can assure you that you mustn’t look away. Look closely at your doubts and you’ll find me. Look at all your failures and you’ll find me. If you ever really listened to all your indecisions you’d noticed the voice in the back, yeah it was me. Take a deep breath and slip into attrition so you can close your eyes and finally accept the truth. Maybe this will help clear your vision of who you really are, you’re me and I’m you.
“You and me, we’re in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow. You and me, if the world should break in two; until the very end of me, until the very end of you.”

Labels: , , , ,

A Season of Rememberence

6/26/2009 06:21:00 PM / Posted by Iron Lung / comments (0)

I posted a section of the lyrics in my first post but since its been taken so long to find a decent studio, I'm gonna go ahead and just post up all the lyrics to my EP.

We can splice lies between angels and deception. We can blend truth into figments and tongue kissing. We can always play denial until the riverbank floods and the levy ain’t as sturdy as the cracks bleed out mud … so here’s to you
Let’s all raise a glass; we ain’t look to evacuate in your direction. We’d all be soaked in six inches of sand quick enough to murder wit and devise a new plan. Let us count our short comings, the subtle differences that make us one all just a happy little mess. I put a star on the “You are here” section of plan 1 and realized I was standing next to cause and the effect. I am not an activist though I take action it may not be methodical. It might just be reaction; it might just be that I actually got tired of babysitting egos as a means to keep the peace. So let me off the leash, I promise I won’t bite but I will make enough noise so you contemplate retreat. Not in the least did I intend to offend you but I guess the truth sucks more when you chose the wrong belief

Stuck in the middle stick in the mud passing up the forecast choosing the flood
Lost in the choice five days for rest of your breaths to be stuck here somewhere else

One more for the bludgeon, quick strike ability to act swiftly, ignore the repercussions and act as if I never had any true intention on backing up my motives ‘cause you never had to know. So on with the show no time to even bother with going back into the ocean to save a sinking ship. Filled up to the tip with a ton of buried treasure and sunny disposition to make the coward lion quit. If I never had a heart and you never caused the scars I wouldn’t have a need to make this journey from the start. But foot after foot I give thanks and then remember that glory is slut amongst the great pretenders of the days gone past. When it was good it was good but now it’s all gone and I can only keep the last few moments in box with an underlying reason that everything you said stays forgotten in the past.

Stuck in the middle stick in the mud passing up the forecast choosing the flood
Lost in the choice five days for rest of your breaths to be stuck here somewhere else

And the last two remnants of a long forgotten summer emerged from the smoke holding hands; as if to not be noticed they crept along the shoreline hiding under wakes and castles in the sand. So along came a spider and spun a new web this time all the spins were true. So please take your time to acknowledge all the tangents before you start to think this web was for you.

Stuck in the middle stick in the mud passing up the forecast choosing the flood
Lost in the choice five days for rest of your breaths to be stuck here somewhere else