Bonercycle

from by Pandas

/

lyrics

This seems. This seems so. This seems so familiar. It’s just. It’s just the way. It’s just the way of culture. Hey man, I can weather rough storms, since they’re just weather patterns. Yeah man, I can weather all storms. It’s not like we have not before. Purge, repent, rebuild again. That’s our rinse-repeat society. Faith in all we’ve accomplished is a false sense of security. Multiply. Divide. Align to a nationality. Isn’t that humanity? Well, I guess that’s all I’ve ever perceived. So you say you got it written down. The perfect prose but I’m afraid we’re past the works of literature. So you say you got it all worked out (the math has been all checked) a formula to let us evolve together? Well, I swear I’ve heard that one before: out of the tomes of scholars’ thoughts; within the confines of church spires. All those answers have become stock. Stock. So as machines become more complex to try and fix this sprawling mess, I’m another purveyor of wasted time. A fickle facsimile fading fast. This seems so familiar. It’s just the way of culture. A broken dyke floods a pasture. A city full of sleeping disorders. A tension bridge snaps from earth fissures. Recycled lives/Recycled buskers. That pretty song can sum it up well. That pretty song, such an axiom. That pretty song of your prolix swill. That pretty song is sealed in a vacuum. The clockwork is slowing down. Internal springs are wearing out. Clenched teeth of gears all erode in a quiet clicking droning sound. So you say you got it written down, the prose to break past errors. So you say you got it figured out in equations. (The math is all there) So you say you’ve got it all solved, “just follow the word of our savior.” So you say you got it all figured out. Well, I swear I’ve heard that one before. So you say. Hey man, I can weather rough storms after all they’re just weather patterns. Yeah man, I can weather these storms just like before. The drains are clogged with the stagnance of repeats. Hey man, I can weather a rough storm, the same old weather patterns. Yeah man, I can weather all storms. Just like before the drains are clogged with the stagnance of histories. Well, I guess that’s what I’ve seen.

credits

from Brahe, released August 24, 2011

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Pandas Baltimore

It’s like punk, but with more musicianship. Maybe it’s actually prog, but prog that never went to Berkeley. Then again,maybe it’s metal, but without all the spiky leather. Or perhaps it’s hardcore, but more Greg Ginn and less Jamey Jasta.

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