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The Candleman and the Curtain

by The Earth and I

/
1.
2.
In the harbor, the ship had turned to stone. They watched from the Belfry, long bones, and cold and unsound, their skin drawn tight over emaciated forms. When seconds turned to minutes turned to hours turned to days, the silence overcame the panic. In the aftermath, there’s nothing left to say of fear and doubt, the genuine despair, a symptom of an eternity. With a toothless grin, an old god gave me his name. But I laughed in his face, ‘cause it sounded all the same, his skin drawn tight as a man whose time has passed. When seconds turned to minutes turned to hours turned to days, the silence overcame the panic. In the aftermath, there’s nothing left to say of fear and doubt, the genuine despair. They huddled by the church bells, stayed mute amid the frost. Fifty of them starved and slept to feed the fifteen more. When seconds turned to minutes turned to hours turned to days, the silence overcame the panic. In the aftermath, there’s nothing left to say of fear and doubt, the genuine despair. The ship that would take them had brought them here before. We patiently waited in absence of rapport. It swallowed them up just as they’d been birthed. We patiently waited to make anew the Earth.
3.
Hung up on what I’ve done, and so I’ve erased me from all history, consigned to this space from which I can’t escape. I’ve made this bed where I wait, hunted for bloodlust towards a world turned to dust, for which I am accused, a fucking recluse. All I have are unseeing eyes. Faces face each other inside this rusted locket. Desperate to feel it again, (She’s out there, she’s out there.) with each memory I invent. (Replay it, replay it.) I’ve been bound by each little frame, every death condemned to the same expiration date. Iridescent glow, faint Candlelight through the Curtain, thin and worn, keeps me awake at night. Iridescent glow, faint Candlelight through the Curtain, thin and worn, keeps me awake at night. Pull the blanket over my eyes. Tightly spun, woven through the fragile memories of leaving the world behind, we’ve become the severed threads of a world at bay, a tapestry waiting to fray. Lock the doors; I’ve swallowed the Key. They are not men, but wolves who burn on less sacred cleansing ground, like dust. The midnight sun shines through the drapery, tightly drawn, I’m drawn to it: A burning vagrant in the desert haze, who wanders in the sun, lost. Measure me. I am not the answer to your dreams. Measure me: Imperfect soul, imperfect body, a perfect sacrifice for a fool. Lost with no way out, replace this apathy. With the stoic sorrow of an acquiescent heart, I wait, as a moth, drawn to the flame, a soul, bound to the grave. This bed that I have made is a coffin. You cannot mend a heart if it hasn’t been broken, if it hasn’t been broken. Countless tales interred below the sand persist as solemn souvenirs of every frame you’ve tried to mend with faulty tools in hand. I’ve been bound by each little frame, every death condemned to the same expiration date. Tightly spun, woven through the fragile memories of leaving the world behind, we’ve become the severed threads of a world at bay, a tapestry waiting to fray.
4.
She awoke to the acrid smoke, a stringent sting in her throat. As she shed the stupor of sleep, through the trees, she could see the caustic embers stroke the sky. She turned to the king, who observed everything. She discerned his countenance to have been evident of every thought he’d ever hide. The trees, adorned in the dress they couldn’t think to contest, succumbed to turning to dust. The cinders swallowed them up. From them, undressed of the fire, she fashioned castle walls and spires. And hid herself in the halls from the world and its faults. Waiting in your tower for your prince to come, anyone to save you from every thought you’ve ever thought, all endeavors entertained. Why play the damsel if you can save yourself? There’s a world outside I know you’re dying to see. (It never stops, never stops, ’til you take a stand for what you believe in.) She awoke to the static skies, a scene she sought to excise from the hollows of her head, and assign in its stead, an anesthetic vacancy. Had he forgotten her face, outside the flawless little frames? Had she remembered the forest, the ash, or the flames? Waiting in your castle for your king to come, but he never does. Why play the damsel if you can save yourself? There’s a world outside I know you’re dying to see. (It never stops, never stops, ’til you take a stand for what you believe in.) And if you wanted something more, all you had to do was ask. And now I’ll never know, if I’ll see you again. And if you wanted something more, all you had to do was ask. But now I’ll never know if you burn the forest down, ’cause no one seems to care. Do we make a sound if the forest isn’t there? Why play the damsel if you can save yourself? There’s a world outside I know you’re dying to see. (It never stops, never stops, ’til you take a stand for what you believe in.)
5.
Sugar High 04:06
Rest in the waters, gold at their peak. Where are safer havens? Find a place to sleep and dream of a new wave to sweep us all away. Believe in a new day when we are what we say. Rest here beside me, warm and at peace. Wash clean your psyche, and fall back to sleep. Wake to a new sound, foreign and bizarre. Deny the world no longer. This is what we are. We are. Run in the warm wind. Play in the sea. Smile while you still can. Return to reverie. Reverie.
6.
I stand before the most cloudy of waters. I survey the scene with reserved apprehension. There’s something not right here, like I’ve been here before. It’s strangely familiar. It’s almost uncomfortably comfortable. Perhaps it will be fine to feel at home here, hands immersed in oceans without floors, tracing glass with absent fingertips. One kiss separates us from our latency. Words collide, repeat, subside, give way to better things. The water recedes and all that she reads is torn away, away. Perhaps it will be fine to feel at home here, hands immersed in oceans without floors. With every shortened breath, I explore the further depths, reaching out towards the furthest shores. A heart is not a fragile thing, to break a heart is not an easy thing. Through your silver tears, I will comfort you, take you by the hand, lead you home as best I can. As the days wear thin, under cloudy skies, we will stretch them out, fill them up as best as we know how. When the last train home lets its whistle blow, You’ll be left behind to combat the rising tide. Through your silver tears, I will comfort you, chase away your fears, lead you home through the hollow deluge.
7.
Hold the blades beneath a tongue, erratic yet precise, profoundly capable. I have no patience for facades, nor tolerance of gods who think themselves immune to penance, to karma. I saw everything crumble right before your eyes, confessing to anguish no one could reverse. Order subsides below the static skies, confining a body, desperate for the Earth. Life should never be finite, structured and designed, this path a procession for a futile wake. I sought to guide you out of lands divine, so carelessly leading demons to the lake. No, I reach up to the sun where the stars used to shine. Are we drawn to the flame though we know it will set us ablaze? You’ve been drifting through forests, passive as the trees, submersed in illusions, fashioned through defense. I am the wolf who stalks the shifting breeze And the ritual hunt, through madness, I commence. You stood silently staring out at the debris, as the monarch of fable, future cast in doubt. Though you were fragile, through the atrophy, The faintest of smiles danced upon your mouth. Now that I know you wanted more… now that I know, I won’t see you again. No, I reach up to the sun where the stars used to shine. Are we drawn to the flame though we know it will set us ablaze? You were the constant, the anchor. You were the shadow of her. I saw her life in your smile. This is the path she would choose.
8.
Ethereal 04:19
Caught in the hollow inconsistence, found amidst the excess, uncultivated waste, whose gods discard it, I would forfeit anything to see you just one more time. I felt invincible, the instant so unreal yet alive. The pretense fell and I with it, so limitless. I felt ethereal, as infinite as suns dare to shine. The sovereignty in solitude has sown in me an open view. Words collide, repeat, subside. I’ll play the king for empty halls. All the world’s a grave for everyone. The finest fare is not a feast if no court attends to toast the king. I felt the darkness grow, a darkness I know all too well to hide. The burning trees are burning in me, and the forest is falling. I felt a foreign breeze that tasted sweet with guilt and remorse. I saw through veils of shifting sand the faded figure of a man. Words collide, repeat, subside. I’ll play the king for empty halls. All the world’s a grave for everyone. The finest fare is not a feast if no court attends to toast the king.
9.
The slender hand forewarned of a solemn 2 A.M. The candle-esque cadaver exercised his dying breath. The desert sand is as adequate a grave as any other, underneath the toxic sun. I gave you everything that you didn’t need to have. I failed to hear your pleas and kept the very thing you couldn’t do without. But in the end, it’s all the same. I discerned their silhouettes, a stiffness to their stride. And they moved like skeletons on parade. How long had it been since I’d seen the stars at night? Passing countless days in search of something I can’t find? Did I believe that I could turn this paper into gold? Cast into the embers all to see what I could forge? I gave you everything that you didn’t need to have. I failed to hear your pleas and kept the very thing you couldn’t do without. But in the end, it’s all the same. Everyone has got an inner demon (to keep them up at night.) Everyone has got a skeleton or two to hide. They say you’ll find the devil in the details, (presence ever slight.) But I have found him manifest within the archetype. No, the stars have taken refuge in the light of the sun. I coveted their light persisting to evade the dusk. If something were to happen to them, we would never know. If they don’t shine again, then in the end, who gives a fuck? Everyone has got an inner demon (to keep them up at night.) Everyone has got a skeleton or two to hide. They say you’ll find the devil in the details, (presence ever slight.) But I have found him manifest within the archetype.
10.
I, a captive of autonomy, a proxy for ire and apathy, will be erased, to preclude the recounting of my history. I am neither undeserving of nor immune to this expiration date, this “proper ending” fate. Suddenly, a knock, the wolves approach with care, with their claws prepared. I grow apprehensive. They saunter inside with hungry eyes, the fear, a less than human sight. This is my design. I cannot repair them. With fangs to my throat, I hold my breath. The clock is ever adamant. As the seconds pass, I await my sentence, the end of the Architect. In the harbor, the stone subsides to dust. The severed threads unwind. The ruins turn to rust. The waves recede in kind. Beneath a grieving sun, the shifting sands divine uncertainty to come in time. The color runs from iridescent sleep to paint the Earth in kerosene memories. Promises of love and paper-thin innocence invite the Sun to swallow them. The Candle burns to guide the wandering. A sacrifice could never mend anything, a passive act of insincerity, foreshadowing a proper end to everything. Now and then, amidst the many eyes I see, it is hard to feel that I deserve to be there, a portrait amongst those little frames, afraid that I’m not good enough. It is hard to fall when the world is watching, they feast on defeat as wolves will do. The color runs from iridescent sleep to paint the Earth in kerosene memories. Promises of love and paper-thin innocence invite the Sun to swallow them. The Candle burns to guide the wandering. A sacrifice could never mend anything, a passive act of insincerity, foreshadowing a proper end to everything. You were the constant in question. You were the shadow of doubt. I saw the lie in your smile. Pleading for someone to save you now. You were the constant, the anchor. You were the shadow of her. I saw her life in your smile. This is the path she would choose. You were the constant in question. You were the shadow of doubt. I saw the lie in your smile. Pleading for someone to save you now. The color runs from iridescent sleep to paint the Earth in kerosene memories. Promises of love and paper-thin innocence invite the Sun to swallow them. The Candle burns to guide the wandering. A sacrifice could never mend anything, a passive act of insincerity, foreshadowing a proper end to everything.
11.
Future kid, oh he thought he knew the price of love gone wrong. It’s another warm day, just as any other. Forced his gaze to acknowledge foreign faces. The actors waited oh so still behind the curtain, future kid dressed up in paper. She hid naked behind three golden leaves. And when it rose, skin was shed in petals, and billions watched, but few were left to feed his disgrace. When the kid became the Candleman, it was all too late. Though he never once looked back, he knew he was alone. The audience and the actors were gone, like so many dead stems. Dark and burned felt the Candleman on his back, on the sand. But he tossed away many a framed face, and no one watched, as he let go of his disgrace. But he kept the locket, though he’d lost the key, so she’d hold him once more.
12.
Mother, I should know when the four hands align, the hour’s arrived. The blood from the severed heart is drained for the child, who drinks it and smiles. Is he going to see, to see what I see, a greater purpose? It’s too late to plan, to change who I am, leave it all to be somebody else. Don’t tell me that we’re out of time here, that all the effort made to make amends was wasted all on vain endeavors, my friend… Wait to say your final words, you’ll have your last goodbyes. Persevere and you will survive. Save your final words, and keep your last goodbyes inside. Wait for the life that I haven’t lived. Brother, if you would, weld his soul to his body, inhuman and godly. If he dies, then this dying earth will swallow the curtain, cleansing its burden. Is he going to see, to see what I see, a greater purpose? A slip of the knife could swiftly decide everything for centuries to come. Don’t tell me that we’re out of time here, that all the effort made to make amends was wasted all on vain endeavors, my friend… Wait to say your final words, you’ll have your last goodbyes. Persevere and you will survive. Save your final words, and keep your last goodbyes inside. Wait for the life that I haven’t lived. Lover, do you see an end to the things I’ve done? Can you recommend better paths to run away? The signs, it seems, have specified the same old winding dreams where years have passed in droves, and eons likewise so. Wait to say your final words, you’ll have your last goodbyes. Persevere and you will survive. Save your final words, and keep your last goodbyes inside. Wait for the life that I haven’t lived.

credits

released April 13, 2018

Vocals – Kendyle Paige
Bass / Vocals – Nick Petromilli
Guitar / Vocals – Daniel Siew
Guitar – Liam Zintz-Kunkel
Drums – Suss Mackenzie

Produced by The Earth and I
Mixed and Mastered by Mike Watts at VuDu Studios
Drums and Vocals Recorded and Engineered by Shane Stanton at Architekt Music
Guitars Recorded and Engineered by Daniel Siew
All music written by The Earth and I
Lyrics written by Daniel Siew and Suss Mackenzie
Artwork by Daniel Siew

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