EPISODE · Oct 6, 2024 · 4 MIN
Kneaded
from Steph Something · host Steph Something
HUMANS - SS - Lyrics, Melody, Vocals Matt Kaprelian - Bass Mitch Brody - Composition, Guitar, Mix/Master Lyrics: Fingers in mouths and unknown parts Sliding through jaws, portals, places upon various surfaces of one another In the black room, we feel the four walls We see nothing and we vaguely recall having any recollection at all So we search every inch of the other Sorta similar, but certainly not the same So feverishly we seek Go in, go out, go in between Atop, underneath, pressed tightly Slipping, sliding, fitting like we are being kneaded by The darkness in which we exist We know we are missing something And we know they are upon us when the walls move And the bright lights only let our eyes see what truth we exist in Black and black, never a surprise Only an audience of some unknown size Watching, smelling, listening to nothing Anything, move about or stay frozen No matter the omittance of any reason But then the painter, he places objects Of impossible properties behind the eyelids With crafted and ordered words The noises our teeth and tongues create They place spectacular ideas in the sockets behind our eyes But it's not enough to satiate the need The animal cannot be destroyed so easily It's not enough But back in the dark We remember Exactly what to do
What this episode covers
HUMANS - SS - Lyrics, Melody, Vocals Matt Kaprelian - Bass Mitch Brody - Composition, Guitar, Mix/Master Lyrics: Fingers in mouths and unknown parts Sliding through jaws, portals, places upon various surfaces of one another In the black room, we feel the four walls We see nothing and we vaguely recall having any recollection at all So we search every inch of the other Sorta similar, but certainly not the same So feverishly we seek Go in, go out, go in between Atop, underneath, pressed tightly Slipping, sliding, fitting like we are being kneaded by The darkness in which we exist We know we are missing something And we know they are upon us when the walls move And the bright lights only let our eyes see what truth we exist in Black and black, never a surprise Only an audience of some unknown size Watching, smelling, listening to nothing Anything, move about or stay frozen No matter the omittance of any reason But then the painter, he places objects Of impossible properties behind the eyelids With crafted and ordered words The noises our teeth and tongues create They place spectacular ideas in the sockets behind our eyes But it's not enough to satiate the need The animal cannot be destroyed so easily It's not enough But back in the dark We remember Exactly what to do
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Kneaded
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