Rustbound Hearts

{Distorted, weeping electric guitar

chords

sliding

into a

slow, heavy 808 trap heartbeat} Standing outside the boundary lines with smoke

in the autumn air,

Laughing with Jordan about the weight of the clothes we wear.

You gotta step away from the blueprints,

walk right out of the frame,

Just to remember the feeling

before they gave you a name.

Inside the box it's freezing,

a concrete security cage,

While outside is the wild-grown forest,

turning an untamed page.

{Heavy distorted guitar power chords crashing in with a crisp trap hi-hat

roll} We build our rectangular shelters to keep the cold winters away,

Trading the canopy cover for walls that start to decay.

Oh, the box is a structural construct,

a fortress we built in the dark,

Wielding our polished steel blades like we're looking for any old spark!

Is happiness wandering free or trapped inside of the room?

We're trading the dirt of the forest for an engineered kind of

gloom.

Outside we breathe in the wildfire,

inside we try to find rest,

And Joan says that somehow the divine order is always the best

:)

Total autonomy locked over every square inch of enclosed real estate,

Respecting the deeds and the private land

titles that dictate our fate.

Raw

emo-trap static cutting straight through the doubt,

Analyzing the perimeters of what we are crying about.

We left the ancient timber for a roof over our head,

Now we pace our private properties wondering where the wildness fled.

{Beats drop out to a lonely,

distorted electric guitar and a raw,

close-mic vocal} The forest never asked you for a deed or a

legal decree, It just grows without permission,

wonderfully, fiercely free. Can you stretch a life out longer if you

never taste the wind?

Can you find a quiet salvation when you're trapped where you began?

{A massive wave of distorted guitars and heavy sub-bass explodes back in}

We hold our shiny silver blades up high against the night...

{Gritty, emotional emo-rock guitar

solo bleeding

through a

heavy trap beat}

Oh, the box is a structural construct,

a fortress we built in the dark,

Wielding our polished steel blades like we're looking for any old spark!

Is happiness wandering free or trapped inside of the room?

We're trading the dirt of the forest for an engineered kind of

gloom. Outside we breathe in the wildfire,

inside we try to find rest,

And Joan says that somehow the divine order is always the best

:) {Guitars slowly fading into a low,

atmospheric distortion tail and vinyl hiss} Tiguidou...

Next cycle locked. {Final echoing guitar pluck dissolving into silence}