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Not Waving But Drowning

by Hands Of A Saviour

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1.
Guess what: Another day; another pretty girl – what’s another pretty face to a wretch like me? Looking in the mirror, thinking I’m anything other than a waster with a sham degree. Why must I be so shy? What’s life but wasted time? She’s got demons just like mine So I’m picking up the signals but did she really mean it that way? No, of course she didn’t. I guess that’s that – good riddance. Hiding all my feelings underneath a hundred rulings – self-inflicted ‘cause it’s safer that way. So that’s that … So safe – from what? A moment in time? You think you know the answer so you won’t even try? For that smile; the spine; the presence of mind; the hook that lines your vocal chords; the grey in your eyes? Where’s your safety in numbers now? Etch it in; itch your skin. #11982: All that I am; all that I do. … but I get back on the horse; I slit my throat, keep moving on – like that song – ‘cause if I don’t I’ll miss my boat. Remember how I’m waiting there forever but it won’t? Plus it’s date night. If it’s a late night, maybe it could be my night, but I’m fantasising ‘cause I’m home by nine. Not again … no, not again! All I think about is: “Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve” but I’ve never been that good a man. I can’t abide this, the unrequited. I say I try but I ain’t got the strength to bite this.
2.
Lost in my mind, I feel you there, we intertwine, I hear your whisper. Lost in the rhythm of a dream, you're perfect; an oasis so divine that I forget the barren desert I am forced to ever wake to. I would poison my sleep to get rid of you. My sentence: to wake up and do it over again, Come close to the end and overextend, then back to playing pretend. Wake up; mess up; do it over again: This is the life that I lead; this is the way that I bleed. This is the way that I bleed.
3.
No one has to know. How much further would Tyler say I have to go? No one has to know. I’m a danger to myself I can’t be trusted alone. No one has to know. It’s my secret; it’s mine; it reminds me of home. It feels like breathing but without the stabbing pain in my lungs, it feels like speaking but without the taste of bile on my tongue, it feels like bleeding but without the sentiment or cliché, it feels like living but without the agony. But my feeling makes me hate myself; makes me do such horrors to myself. But if I don’t feel sorry for myself then well who will? Right? Right? Padlocks on knife drawers – now where have I heard that before (I’m right). It’s like an addiction how it’s got me by the throat ‘cause I could quit at any time, I just won’t. Who knew rock bottom would feel this good? Convincing me that I can’t, when I know I could; too afraid to let go, when I know I should; it’s all I’ve ever understood. Who knew rock bottom would taste this good? This could be my secret – no one asks when your wrists are clean and I won’t bore you with it – no one cares if it’s your chest that’s bleeding. I just can’t explain it – how I hate the feeling but can’t leave it. It’s got me asking myself if I believe in half the things I’m meant to find appealing. But if it’s all I control, it’s my pain, I’ll hurt if I want to. And I know I should stop but who am I to rid the world of what I’m best at? It’s what I’m best at. Sometimes it feels as though it’s all I’m good at.
4.
I dedicate this one to all the friends who had the decency to stab me in my chest. 'Cause that's what friends are for ... or so I'm told. I've seen brotherhood through windows I've traveled past, condemned to this lonely path, see, when it mattered, my fellowship shattered, it scattered, and I got battered by the winds of a lustful one - Shame on me for thinking I deserved the kind of affection I had given, given back to me. ‘Cause what I've learned is the world turns; the world burns; no matter what we all fill urns so save yourself. No, forget you too. I want to be rid of you. No, forget you too. I can't explain it but I can't stop tounging the wound, guess when they're cornered that's what wallflowers do. They're gone but here's to readjusting – b-b-b-b-b-but nothing! All’s said and done, there’s nothing left to construe. So much for the homegrowns; the hooked-up-by-the-hip-bones. They could say that they tried but I know that's a lie, and why? Repartee is a two way street; once ready rapport rendered ruined by vanity. Turn-coat, that was all she-wrote – I still remember, but I’m thinking you don’t so burn your memories and cover your tracks, forget this ‘loser’ ever covered your back ‘cause you could change your mind on where your loyalties lie, but that would better prove my point that all your loyalties die – so when you stumble back to try and rationalize I'll give you one last thing, this little piece of advice: Piss off! See, I've been dropped from the team enough times I've become accustomed to the taste of spite. Besides, the conversation inside my head is much more appealing, I've always said. I was born alone so I can rot alone, and I sleep alone so I can die alone. ... Or maybe not. ‘Cause the worst thing about it is you’ve made up your minds – can’t do a damn thing about it. You've got new ways to spend all your time and that time is better spent now that you've left me behind - and that's fine. ... But no it's not, 'cause you forgot that I exist when you were all that I'd got – stop. Now I think about it, what's it to me? You’ll be forgotten in the end given the company you keep so: Don't need you calling me a friend when you never call, you're always "busy" but I’m not buying your fables at all. You're not worth the aggro – it’s not too late to let go so next time I see you, you'll just be some dickhead I used to know. ‘Cause I've found words to live by, sing 'em loud if you know why: Trust nothing; love no one; Trust no one; love nothing. ... and if that's not what life is, what do you know? ’Cause mine is. Trust nothing; love no one; Trust no one; love nothing. ... and if gloom's all that awaits, well that's fine, it’s my best mate. Trust nothing; love no one; Trust no one; love nothing.
5.
6.
I have done my share of shameful things: I’ve torn your pages out my Bible; skin from flawless temple. But what was I supposed to do when you left me alone with myself for so long? ... 'cause you know what I’m like. And you said if I asked I'd receive for as long as I believe, but I guess I didn't pray loud enough. I guess I didn't pray hard enough. You were too busy for me; you always ignore me; why won't you adore me? So what? It's only life we're talking about; it's only happiness we're talking about. But when I was a child we'd make deals all the time - you keep yours, and I'll keep mine ... I guess I should have known better than that. All you gave to me you took right back. Where were you when I was afraid? Where were you when I was dismayed? You sealed the lock on your Eden's gate, so if Heaven awaits the strong of heart and faith I guess I'll see you in Hell. Look at me: your image; everything you thought would bring you peace - I wasn't good enough. But whose fault is that? I'm your plaything. Hit back. Fight back. Because if you turn the other cheek you best believe that I'll be hitting that too. This is everything I think of you. You're like a deadbeat dad but not as good as that. To recap: this is for the time you took our blood, then made us watch it back. So I guess I’ll do my share of shameful things: I’ll tear your pages out my Bible; skin from flawless temple. But if that's foolish and I'm biting the hand that feeds, well I'm starving. I haven't eaten in weeks. There's more meat on a flea than there is on me - I'm all skin and bone; all knees; elbows. I don’t believe in you. This is revenge for all the troubles that you’ve put me through; For not believing in me – I begged, got down on my knees – should have put less trust in you and more faith in me. I shan’t be moved – you could try – you could never overcome the world that I’ve created for myself in heaven’s ditch, it’s not much but I’ve made it my home. Born in the gutter and the gutter’s where I’ll die, because I’m better off without you in my degenerate life; because I’m alive; and when I taste the venom of the viper I sigh, this is what church should feel like.
7.
If this is life then I’m wanting out; one more goodbye then I'm dropping out. There is no purpose or meaning, no reason to qualify breathing in; breathing out. Value determined by consequence; essence dependent on existence: reality is a construct of unanswered questions decaying our cerebrum. Nothing is sacred; kindness is fiction; nothing you do is a choice, volition's a contradiction. Selfishness is all we’re made of. There is no altruism and no such thing as love. All life is mechanism, nothing to be proud of. There is no worth in life - intrinsic merit in sentience doesn’t exist without sentient life to attribute it. Ethics are arbitrary, the concept of right artificially set by a race that then fails to adhere to it. Watch us waste away, let this putrid world decay, give me one reason to save it; forgive it; one reason to let it live. Leave nothing alive, torch the Earth and sear the sky. Out of the crooked timber of man nothing straight ever could be made. There’s no murder we won’t try to justify, but that’s human nature, ain’t it? There’s no murder we won’t try to justify, but that’s human nature. End it. Family; trust; government; lust; romance and love; all the above only exist if our consciousness makes them up. Happiness is not an ideal of our reasoning but imagination and it feels like mine’s wired shut. For all the logic that I’ve paid so dearly to compile, I still can’t find a way to make this lifetime seem worthwhile. Take it all away, expunge the starlight from the sky. No more humans; no more torment; If the world finds sleep tonight, I'll pray it won’t wake up.
8.
Smile 02:22
I've had it rough - nearly choked on the silver spoon I was born chewing on. And I've had it tough - could've copped it dropping from the top but I don't, even though I keep doing it wrong. Living in a nice house; used to be a cub scout; money for a night out, put it on the card. "Buy me my things" - on Mum and Daddy's purse strings, isn't life hard? Cheer up, many've got it better; badder. You've got it good. Isn’t life hard? Never good or smart enough - even when you're forking out nine grand a term. What did you learn? How to dress a wound and treat a burn? So du jour ... How'd I get so lucky as to be where I have been when I just don't deserve a thing? Given every freedom I could ask for, I've still got the nerve to want to have more. Every dove's a different shade of off-white; even when I'm hating myself, I can't do it right. Tried to shake the feeling and appreciate that breathing English air in makes me luckier than most, but when I close my eyes I fantasize of tragedy . Maybe if I walk around pretending then believing will be easy but this burden never sleeps - The only things that impress me are the things that depress me. Henry, stop complaining. You’re so mundane. Oh, just suck it up; Smile.
9.
Drifting out with the Charleston tide, too slow to run; too dumb to hide. What if no one cares what our songs are about? And no one wants to hear some toff crying his eyes out? ... It's just you'd think by now that I'd have something to say about the things they care for on a day to day, but I don't care about "X," and for the hundredth goddamn time, I do not care about sex. But no, let's: Hit up the town, see the night life; trip the light 'till the sunrise - we'll be all eyes and high fives - just a night out with the guys: Do shots, do drugs, do girls - all the things that I never do. If I can pull it off, maybe see it off, I could be a me that's good enough for you. But back in the real world, I've already said all that I've got so I guess I'll scream it instead: I'm not waving but drowning, can't take anymore. So far from shore ... I can't be the only one who feels like this.

credits

released November 11, 2014

All music written and performed by Hands Of A Saviour.

Tracks 1-9 produced and engineered by James Roberts.

Art and layout designed by Timur Khabirov [All4band.com].

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Hands Of A Saviour London, UK

Machine-gun vocals, dissonant grooves and heavy, technical metalcore from North London, England.

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