Vices I Admire все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Your episodic aphorisms plague me like the poor decision to play the disinterested listener. I’m like the old child that’s grown an earache--full of manipulated tones, tired pragmatics that practice spitting verbs at their perfect prisoner. And you navigate that skill with an aristocratic arm, yeah, you brew your toxic fantasy with predatory charm, you are an a-theatric amateur who drools over every word but can’t memorize one single part. And you’ll get what can’t be got, ain’t gonna never be received. If you turn your back, boy, then you’ll never leave.

You’re a product of my ministry, you are crushed on open arms, you will drown in open air prepared to heal your anemic heart. Old vulture, gnarled nemesis, old cavity re-tooled I want to drive a nail through your eyes so I can get a better view. A part of me longs to wash the past, yeah that part of me is weak, a part of me works to find the faults that part of me won’t seek. Carry me home, you improbable ghost, I would rot by your flesh, I will gnaw on your bones--are you calling out my name? Elutriate and evanesce. I would gorge myself on praise if you praise this.

How do you smile? You are a mystery to me. You taught me by moving slow, you do not so quickly proceed. Still you’re warm and gray, a quilted memory, you market yourself by the faded company you keep. And you were already here--a shadow on my tongue--yeah, you were already here and all alone like me. You are a blister from too much sweet, you’re an ulcer from too much wine. You are dead, I know that you’re dead, were you ever really alive?

This is my best impression of how the guilty hang. A confession invented by the peculiar page, witness the grace of the game and save your praise for the savior to raze this stage. And I would hand me over happily, see, I’ve earned my cover most carefully by them sticks and stones that owned important place and time and feed me alibis for my disappointing prosody that promised me the word not the paperback progeny re-posed and re-purged, is it loose, dilute, aloof, suffused with the proof of better second tries? Yeah, but I don’t mind that beat, ‘cause it’s a melody. Muse, divine me an art and buy me an artistry. See, I will give you every lonely piece of me and never want for mine.

I am all out of time, I’m all out of you too

This is my best impression of how the innocent crawl. Walk to run first or first stand then fall. Just remember the real course, and driving is easier pursued by the second hand. And this is my best impression of going belly high, see me don’t give in, don’t give up, do I? No. I am defiant of the factory molds and the fate proven partially blind. Call it the circle made whole, get what the beast deserves or whatever you want my friend, it’s just if I’m hard to see, then it’s hard to breathe. I’ve got a pulse that won’t pretend, that I don’t mind that beat, ‘cause it’s a melody. Muse, divine me an art and buy me an artistry. I will give you every lonely piece of me and never want for mine.

I am all out of time, I’m all out of you too

I'll recreate you in gold
and manufacture your soul
oh liberator, baby, drag me under

And wander with me a while
'til I taste teeth in your smile
oh victimizer, honey, push me further

e but that's how the story goes
When she left color for chrome he was the last to know
She said, "Surely be nice for you to come with me."
He said, "I know I've got a love like a star you can hardly see, but all my fire is for you."

She sold plastic dreams, paper smiles
She studied the wonder-less world and dreamed only a little while
She said, "Surely be nice if you would come to me."

She says that I'm not enough
How would you know?Oh, the measure of a man is to hold his breath and see how far he can go
Are you watching closely, are you breathing this in? A pose imperfect is
probably a political plan, repeat, the plan is probably a plea to repeat the
pose, indeed indefinite effort is effortlessly imposed upon the cost of
living like it is not worth living and if it is not worth living then I guess
you could put your money back in. My priest gives (me) proverbs in prose
and my pretend friend don't know whether when coming or going you're

What’s your name? Tell me your secrets. Reasonable regrets, no preface or pretense, just c’mon lay down with me. Cut yourself from the stone, that you milled in the doorway here and keep every problem you want my dear, I’ll make it perfectly clear: all I desire is your physical pain. Like when you crawl to me, open aversion is just for show, I’d give a warning but I think you know--it doesn’t matter where you go--I’ll be recording every casual shame. Now you know me.

And I’ll tell you all about the politics of apathy. I’ll get you drunk on a word and walk you down the street. I’ll be uncomfortably warm, read me unreasonably well. I’ll put your name on the list you’ll be unable to sell. I am the heartbreaker.

There are those who impersonate their feelings of love, who draw their deficit courage from the red badge of another warm body embraced by the bed. And I’m just so damn sure that I’m not your enemy, I’ll never say what you meant to me or pretend I’ll be anything other than this weekend’s release. And now you know me well: I’ll fill you up just to empty you out. But, a criminal? No, I’m not, just the child of a lesser god (one who’s both perverse and profane). Now you know me.

And I’ll tell you all about the politics of apathy. I’ll get you drunk on a word and walk you down the street. I’ll be uncomfortably warm, read me unreasonably well. I’ll put your name on the list you’ll be unable to sell. I am the heartbreaker.

I've understated my phrenology.
It seems my head is far too wicked for this ride.
If I had your name, I'd wear it right 'round my neck so I could vindicate an
anti-social suicide.
And if you're bored of me then I have met the mark: another bipedal freak
cutting the future from his hands.
I like your world, you search for knowledge yet, you're learning how to
forget and forgetting how to understand.

Process me, produce the proper symmetry to put me in charge of reinventing the mute. Put me in party to the scheduled lie and give me your right hand but live by your left, make me murder every mountain and remove every paradise.

There are evil voices in my head

(They tell me the improbable arithmetic of closing my eyes and counting the cards [keep ‘em busy by counting the cards])

See how this wears me out? How close am I (now) to another dull mystery: are we the graveyard or the ghost? I have a motive. My motivations are a matter of fault--all your fault.

Cold wind come kiss me awake
I like the way that you stutter when you know I'm not sleeping

Stay with me a little while, and see in a little while
You won't mind the mess, 'cause I made you this way
Now you know

Oh! Oh!

Old bruises, bad news is
Imperfectly reused in a second life taught by second-hand thoughts to breathe when it's blown out.
I like him, don't fight him
When he speaks a piece of his mind, I give the devil his due, and if he gets through it's rude to push him out.

More than anything now, the lips I've kissed the lips you own, the lips I hate, I've memorized.

Turned to demons I can't shake. They burn. They keep me alive.

Are you simple in love?
Do hollow dreams haunt you still?
Always chipping away
By counting on time to kill

She said, "Fever, you followed where pleasure has failed me."

You'll fly for your love and win her away awhile

Carry me, carry me to your lips I'll be your cinnamon oh with sugar this
sweet upon my tongue it burns right through the skin

She drinks me: venom and pride; lonely on my kiss. Heart full of daggers, dear, won't keep me here. Tell me who you miss.

You'll never let me go. Oh? It's easier said than done, I'm so hard, hard to forgive I'll never give you enough.

Felicity knows my name, oh oh oh.

She gets her moves right from the front page and begs me, ooh I’ve got the sweetest girl. She is the product of uncertainty. The treasure I sought, a wonder grinning and gold, so much for the soft words she never told: that I would have to wait so many steps behind.

Forgive me, I don’t mean to trouble you, I will move the parade an inch behind the starting line. Forgive me I don’t mean to trouble you but I feel so miserable.

Now she likes to touch only when I’m sleeping, it keeps me dreaming of a sweeter girl. One with a generalized impurity. She’s abruptly the queen, suddenly fit for the crown, probably the reason she don’t need me now. But I prefer things much more spiritual, so I’ll stay a step behind.

Forgive me, I don’t mean to trouble you, I will move the parade an inch behind the starting line. Forgive me I don’t mean to trouble you but I feel so miserable.

Blessed be the artificial tear
To conjure up the dreary and dear
To invite the victim toward the chopping block
Where we'll feast upon his wings
Then speak of finer things

Oh, it seems, black hearts bleed melodies
Blow out the wicked sun