1. |
no heroes
02:35
|
|
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|
shakes, trembled.
dry oils that fade away with time.
what time?
navigating like crane
between fragile mortar
destined to fall
built on a land of loss
false moves
look remove
feeling all the nerves in my hands
weighing my body down
no water flow can ease, release
no water.
no heroes, no masters
no masters, no heroes
just a colander,
straining out the parts that matter
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2. |
Wilshire
03:00
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|
over thought
not sure at all
leave the house behind
bodies float above the fog
dampens the burn
so many faces
one place to another
everything looks the same
talks the same
gold posts hold the roof
the water comes from
who knows where
fleeting, never returned
losing, a moment's hour
slight light
curve of a dome
white walls
foundation corrupted
lost city,
I feel for you
|
||||
3. |
november 22nd 1988
01:01
|
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4. |
lifeclock
03:53
|
|
||
|
obsolete nothingness,
paved lines drawn in sand
absolute fragility, masked
still life groves, in alternate spaces
the past becomes us, the past becomes you
خواستند به خانه بروند
I was not meant to save you.
but my hands were turned
my hands were turned away
“nothing for me to say, for me to do.”
reach out my hands towards you.
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5. |
eyes
01:57
|
|
||
|
enter white noise
take heart again; look forward
to another similar day.
still far away, but sure to come
sometime in its turn.
walk with hands wide open
for a certain sum, relations come.
bargain and bow down.
stand beside them; satisfy them.
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||||
6. |
representative body
02:43
|
|
||
|
wander, wonder my mind
through time and space.
through time and echoes.
these windows are not mirrors
these mirrors are not windows
cause it to break.
all she wants, is embrace
cause it to break.
all she prays every night is for embrace
it's not me in that photograph
it's not me looking back
I am not what you see.
I am not what you heard.
only lies that my mind works overtime to forget.
there’s no such thing as a perfect body of water.
there’s no such thing as a perfect body of work.
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7. |
september 9th 1969
01:39
|
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8. |
rain gaze
02:45
|
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|
memories lost
centuries long narrative
of center shifted
stories are written
language is mourned
circles close
goodbyes are said
pressed hands
with bodies interlocked
صورت من را بکش
دست هایم را نگه دار
صورت من را بکش
من در خانه میمونم.
کسی که اینجا نیست.
دست من
دست هایم
دست من
من در خانه میمونم.
لا تنسى الشمس
forgetting is a chore
when she feels you everywhere
|
||||
coherence Oakland, California
benji - drums
kris- bass
rebz-guitar/voice
ramy - guitar/voice
you can hit us up:
fckcrprtns@gmail.com
IG @coherenceband
FB @coherencediy
coherence recommends:
the homies.
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