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Our Lives in Cinema

by The Separation

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1.
Stutter 04:03
Retreat back to the liars hole, it’s a paradise. I feel stretched out, who’s to blame? Drowning in red wine, the soil sings of happy crimes, how will we endure? Just smile through the weekend, beat me bloody to the floor. The sirens call, the bell the sing, we holler in a shallow circle of blame, a loose tooth, a shopping spree, oh she is everything. Who is going to hang the young liars? We know who’s to blame, we knew this was happening. A captain who will never lead a billion starving fleas. The well of pity is long and deep, forgotten alchemy. Like confetti in the wind. Like an argument blowing up again. Give me a gun, give me a gun, going dead. Like an argument blowing up again. Give me a gun, give me a gun Red. We will be the ones who will evaporate and we’ll become the poison rain.
2.
I live in your world of trashcan glamour, Darin and Dylan both croon you to sleep. And I wait awake you. It’s another aborted journey, we walk away both scratched and bleeding. I knew where we were going. You were the first the golden idol that I held dear, within your slight frame, your charred corpse, your charred hair. You want me to be someone I’m not. You were the first. The first, the last that ever lived, you were the first the last that ever. I’d marry you tomorrow. In the end you die in your own arms and there is nothing. There is nothing. Every week’s another episode. Tell the writer never again, never again. Tell them never again, never again, tell them. And I forget what the old race won me, stalled in the first another lost trophy. You want me to be someone I’m not. I’m not. I need distress to keep me going. Sleep, never sleep again. I’ve been sleeping in. I’ve been sleeping. Sleep, trash deep.
3.
He hands the hardcover to me like a silver trophy. Broken face screams a cattle-prod to this detective. Yeah you’re better, better, you’re better, better than this. Can I bring a broken bottle to your midnight dancing? Or slash a waltz to sing a country song about the month you wrote in cryptic visions. You're better, better, you’re better, better than this. The groom blooms blue in his sleep while he cries a lupine howl. Was it everything? That you thought it should be, that you thought it should be. Whoa, oh, oh. The first sign of a miserable job is that we’re still here. Yeah. Pass the bottle to me and feed this hungry teen queen. Bring a knife to this puppet show of actors, divas. Divas, actresses, you’re better, better than this. The groom blooms blue in his sleep while he cries a lupine howl. My midnight dancer draped in soft moonlight, a ballerina in the dark. Night terrors, campfire songs. Hey shotgun I am the enemy. Whoa. On Halloween, they quiver in this quake and flood. They spit in foreign tongues on Halloween.
4.
Eighteen 03:20
If the sweetheart is sincerity, then we should never stop jumping through candy hurdles. If love becomes just an empty hallmark card we should write new poems, tales to tear us apart. You thought I was a quitter, you make me work again. You shone like a diamond night, and I felt eighteen. I was a whirlwind caught between sleeping at work and living a dream. A drunken thug behind the scenes. You don’t have to give it up, life’s too short don’t give up anything.
5.
Our Lives in Cinema (free) 02:11
The blood, the sea, the smear campaign. The fragile little abortions that we set aflame. A tragedy in silver-screen, the bones the crows will pick clean. Our lives in theatre, our lives in cinema. Back to being a waiter Red, or just start naming names. We want our money back yeah. Our lives are so cinematic. We want our money back. We don’t know what we want but we know what we’ve got. We want everything that’s coming to us. We want our lives to be like the movies, more cinematic.

credits

released February 14, 2011

Mark Bartlett - Vocals
Phil Christopher - Guitar
Stephen Andrews - Guitar
Arran McSporran - Bass
Greg Talbot - Drums

Written and Produced by The Separation

Audio mixed and mastered by Gavin Brady

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The Separation London, UK

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