Moving Units

We've been planning our obselescence... Would you dance on our defeat if you plan our death on a week? We've been planning. With every word we're confessing. Will you meet me in the streets when these songs are obsolete? By the time you read this we'll be gone. Someone keep my blood pumping longer than this van is running. Someone keep my legs kicking longer than this disc is spinning. You'll learn to love this cinch more than your legs. If your curiosity ain't quenched after this tour. You'll be searching the whole damn world for a new chase. I hope that sweet heart is pumping longer than this van is running I hope our legs will be kicking longer than this disc is spinning I hope those things will be breathing longer than us fools are screaming. I hope those lips will keep singing louder than the noise we're bringing. I'll meet you there, I'll meet you half way there. In our ole adult matured despair. In our delusions, dreams and fears. We are buried in our years.

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025

Hey kid listen, I'm trying to tell you about the human condition. You are your own black hole. Hey kid listen, I'm giving depth to your flat world vision. You are your own black hole. Disown what you can't control. You are your own black hole. Silence, can you hear it? It's the sound of a man without spirit. And the walls keep crumbling down around a self made victim. I got this cape to pull you up, but I can't save you. If you want, grab a hold. I can't save you if you won't save yourself. I tried to heal your heart. I tried to sail your shipwreck in the dark. This is the fine art of swinging and missing. This is the fine art of sinking and swimming. You see, it takes time to find a balance in such things. You'll learn the fine art of crossing burnt bridges. Old friend, fight physics. Forget the cynicism of my lyrics. You and I will laugh one day at our foolish mistakes. With my bare hands, I will dig you out. But I can't save you if you won't grab a hold. I can't love you if you won't love yourself Hey kid, Listen, just don't suck me in.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

This noise won't get far. If it reverberates off the wall. And a decibel escapes the hall, it won't be heard at all. Don't move, stay where you are, this world will tear you apart. Moving Units means more than the art. Sound scans weigh more than your heart. Take what you've learned and go, just know of a tank of gas won't distance you from the reality of things. I can't save you and you can't save me from this. If you ain't moving units as fast as the rest of them. This noise won't get far it won't escape this hall. These are ugly songs, Ugly kids will only sing along. Do I sound sincere on a compact disc? As if sincerity had anything to do with it. When you sell your soul, you take your check to the bank. If you're aiming at the right audience, you will sell your soul. And take the check to the bank. If you stop aiming, then I can save you and you can save me from this. We are the moving units. Moving units, moving you.

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

I haven't had the time to write in such desperate times. So I'll begin. I wore out my lungs today, been screaming for this to change. Nothing but hot air ever reached your brain. I calmed myself to disprove the glory of your American Dream. Tonight we try to win the crowd for gasoline. I broke my fist on walls. She said it proved nothing at all. I hope these battered halls prevent the casts of war. Yet the prices soar. I bit my lib waved goodbye - wrote off your debts in a single line. Choked on the words I couldn't yell. Broke the vows we used to sell. I've been wondering, why do the heartbeats of this city sound like noise to you? I've been fighting my eyelids to stay inside my head. I've been battling the blistering cold with caffeine and chapped lips. I've been chasing lover's dreams up the wrong stairs in a house made of stone and glass, in a town where no one cares. I will scream these words like a loaded gun. I've been holding it in, it's got to come out. It won't encroach on your speech, It won't impose any harm. And if I die tonight at least I left you a song. Why do the heart beats of this city sound like noise to you? Please don't fight this war for me or your delusions of domestic security.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

Apparently I got World War Three inside of me I got a fucking war in me Dear Tim, stop screaming, who the fuck do you think you're convincing? You keep screaming about the things that you won't change. You keep screaming about the worst things in your brain. Your tears only illuminate bad scenes. Your own brain creates the war you wage. No, I think I did it again. I write about my pain with a pen. I wrote about the worst things in my head. Yea, I think we got a whole fucking lot to learn. When will you figure it out? You find comfort in these cynical songs and if that's where you've been then it's where you belong. Right now I'd rather play guitar than sing to avoid all the bad news. I feel so compelled to brag to avoid all the sad songs I feel so compelled to say. I got World War Three.

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

We've been living off your pulse in the absence of light. The only sensation we feel is the draft for the freezing outside. Our eyes glance at the clock, waiting for the minutes to move. Bathed in the digital light that paints everything in view. We've spent these past few years contemplating an escape. If death is the consequence its a chance we take. Open your eyes, Flash your brights, Ignore octagon shaped signs. You're fucking drowsy, if you think this drive will get you further than our street. You're fucking drowsy if you think this torch will burn precisely as you seek. You ask how the fuck do our hearts beat so long untouched and the beauty of it... Trite, awkward gestures frame the canvas of what we claim to be. Night driving so long we are in the furthest points of a car. Night driving for so long sitting in the furthest points of a car. Watching the cobwebs grow from wall to wall. You asked for my thoughts on the politics of whether God exists or not. We live our lives by dialogues on bathroom stalls. Open your eyes if you think that this torch will do anything more than infect old sores, heat up cold wars. ...hopes like smoke from the cigarettes in a bar. The only reason we breathe in is cause the pure air is sparse.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

Highway miles make you far from me On these highways you'll find some pretty faces Dispersed among the most desolate places A million miles from hometown embraces You'll find warmth in the arms of perfect strangers To the floor in pieces Some songs will resurrect feelings lost in a town you left. Till I sleep on your floor again. Here's a song for the back of your head. Pretty faces, Shitty places, Pretty faces. And we're walking out the door. I feel the red lights, I hear the soundwaves end. I see two honest eyes in a crowd of heads. Pretty faces in a crowd. Shitty places in a town. I broke my throat screaming all these faces. I fell in love with the sound in abandoned spaces. Cell phones don't reach home. It's okay we ain't alone. It's okay cause for more we ain't alone. So long we're gone, we're out.

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

Sometimes it seems kids like you and me learn failure at too young of an age before the blue blood leaks red from our veins. I got some advice for you runaway types, for you lifelong escapists. Jesus Christ won't save us My feet ache from an eight hour day of servitude slavery. I got filthy blood in my veins and this dirt poor DNA Digging ditches for our graves on a working man's wage. If I was born to be you. If I was born to fit your shoes. I'll count my blessings after I count what I lose. We're broke till payday. I spent my last few bucks on a tank of gas and coffee. I hope it keeps us up, we'll drive till we're empty. Till things ain't quite so bad. I hope that these miles medicate our heads. Don't carry the blame, we only disconnect to stay sane. Kids like us run away to stay sane. If it wasn't so cold outside and Philadelphia wasn't quite so wide, I might just runaway from my fate. Watch as my legs break in the chase. So tell me tales of your ambitious plans, but break them down for a simple man cause kids like us won't see those lands. Saturday we'll be something. Sunday we'll be something more.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

As compassionate assassins we're indecisive in matters of love and war. We tend to forget the places we've explored and of the opportunities we fail to seize. We'll do our best to ignore. And of our failed revolutions, none will be mourned. Because we bought the right guns for the wrong wars. You know I'll wake up yearning for change, thinking from the synapses in the stem of my brain. The risks are understood, by then you're gone for good. So just take a second to breathe and habituate to the pain. Our lives are engrained in pictures of passing trains. Our lives are enframed in the stillness of a placid page. But you get use to the stillness of a fucking stagnant life. Some of us are moving or at least we're trying. Swallow your delusions and hold them inside. Digest the combinations of false hope, and swallowed pride. And of our failed revolutions, none will be mourned.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

We're fucked. This is business We will choke without a witness As a man you stand six feet high evolving a million years in a downward spiral Cheap smiles won't hide the lie of love upon the bottom line we sign Stop searching for heartbeats in graveyards They don't exist down here Stop searching for canaries in coal mines They don't exist around here Death beds of old faithful friends They are victims of your industry You stole their reason to breathe When you stole their reason to scream We are the ugly, we are the tired, we are overworked and uninspired. Don't look me in the eye; I lost faith in the sound from your criminal lies. This is business, just business Who gives a fuck about your opinion? If this is punk rock we're fucked.