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[09 Aug 2004|04:40am]

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a bassist!

his name is John Franzo. He will provide a nice new direction for the musical aspect of the band. so thats cool.

The band is currently taking it slow because of the summer, only practiced a few times this summer, we may get another line-up change we dont know. Jack and I have been writing new stuff like the rest of Letters to Arcadia and a different version of conspiracies of a conformist which is on purevolume!

Be advised this is a HORRIBLE example of our band though..


Anyway weve had some bumps with procrastianting out recording.. But its ok, we will soon.

Thanks for listening, and please make comments, it makes us feel cool.

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simple pleasures are the best, as is your beauty [12 Jul 2004|02:19pm]

No updates for a while.. Sorry.

Lyrics for the 6 songs were putting on a EP sometime soon. The lyrics have many spelling errors. I apologize. The repetition is there for concept. Thank you dearests.

1. A Chalkboard Rebellion
2. Cardinal Wind
3. Letters to Arcadia
4. Serenity as a Weapon
5. Sincerely and Forever
6. Monarchy Behind the Trigger


1.) A Chalkboard Rebellion

I've given the skin on my knees again. A martyr for a cause and a cause for concern.

(we tainted their history books, and they still havent learned-
that we arent the heroes
we are the miscreant)

and break me like stained glass window panes and dig into my skin with words sharper than the knives I pulled from my back.

You aren't what you think anymore, as you kiss yourself to sleep and break down walls that you could never build with your own hands. were still on display, slitting our wrists in our own way.

Hold your own, because this ship is going to sink pretty soon and its everyone for themselves. When was the last time you trusted someone else, or had your breath taken away?

and here we are, retracing chalklines to perfection (erasing the lines that we so intracatly drew). i twist this blank notebook page to a parabola of sky-blue lines,the red margins rebel, falling short of wishing wells. they tell me more than knowledge can ever speak. and you fall, into what you teach. these ledges hold nothing but the tainted forgiveness our misled lives lead us to.

the cartography's a fake, the blueprints were erased. our melodies forlorn and and dischords in song. sing to me how you whiped the chalk of your palms.

and time and time again, i find im the iconoclast of a chalkboard rebellion. scream my name. "the letters were so elegant when rearranged".


2.) Cardinal Wind

its just the summer air that I waited all winter for. It's the reason why I've come to abhor the dying of the trees.

so just give yourself away to anyone you'll meet today and ill call you the casualty.

the window is open and the wind's blowing through your hair.

you know I think I used to care but the torment has become as indistinct as my heartbeat, and it only hurts when i feel my repetitous breathing, and its enough to say im sorry. well im sorry.

(the window is open and the wind's blowing through your hair.)

don't you feel beautiful just sitting there?

Where did your confidence go? did it blow away in the wind that came from your window? oh I know tonight you'll be all over ever kid you feel looks better than me. if you ask me to show you a good time ill show you the fucking apocalypse, because dear, that's what I feel is beautiful.

I could say you are too, but with all the lies and conformity I swear this end would be as euphoric as the poison that's in your veins.

. call his name, I'm sure he's listening, but does he really listen to you, or maybe he's just looking for an intricately drawn cartography of the twisted roads underneath your clothes.

broken hearts and rotting minds is the only thing I have to disguise my ugliness from the outside.
do you need your eyes? can you make due with mine? I didn't think so.

maybe you best close your window because you just may hear my voice. you do, but you call it something else.. Its what moves your sails, it's that wonderful feeling under your nails that you would kill for.

give me his design and you wont have to miss home again. I could give you forever if I had a lifetime degree in prudence, and prime experience in happiness.

its colder where you are.. its colder where you are.. and with the faults and all its still november in our hearts.

you've drowned in water that doesn't even pass your knees. scream at me like I'm listening:
"Please! Please! Save me! Please! Save me!"
Well understand me, I'd save you, but I'm too busy saving myself.


3.) Letters to Arcadia

The breaking of bones and the boiling of blood is just another symbol of my long forgotten home

Its a reminder-

so ill remind you; to forget me. its better if we never met. our eyes seached for answers, and our hands told us the story, the story that was never ours. And in your last living hours, please tell me I'm not alone

And if the blood that builds this throne should clot at this second, I would not send any signs of distress; and I detest, I'm better in your place..

I wish for your face, for just one more second, and its one second too late.(give me back, give me back those hours) And even if I could speak; words cant escape when im too busy asphyxiating on your name.

"and im sorry...
and my hands bleed, from grasping the thorns my vision cant perceive.."
"and im sorry...
that my beauty just wilts away"

if clarvoyance could just reach for one last choice, one last chance, wed never meet again..
its you or the world, and i dont have the time to think.

and i could tear you down if you just let me.. but..
just forget me

(my dearest love; you left me here. alone. torn. everytime i see the horizon, i see you, i hear your voice. and on this sword, your blood does lie. alone. torn. im so sorry.. ive said it a million times, and ill say it a million more. you fly so lovely with shredded wings. your loss was my lament.. your loss was my lament..)

dear im sorry.. this is my fault. this choice was thrown into my closed hands..

so open your wings, and turn this world to ashes, and sing this lovely song of fire raining down. and burn the city to the ground. i swear the embers are so much more beautiful than the architechture.

"And whilst this has made me deeply regret, dear Arcadia, I wish to you to forget my severing of ties, because the only difference between us is rotting flesh and empy eyes."


4.) Serenity as a Weapon

The phone rings, at three in the morning.
Mourning a loss that was never hers.
I wish the trail carved by her tears would'nt lead to such beautiful eyes.
Hidden behind a loss for words, disconcerned about just exactly what we are.

He crumples paper hearts, and stains ones made of glass.
She said i'm sorry, but he reacted too fast.
Dont you look so beautiful, i think ill taint you, paint a quaint picture of us; hands closed in love.
It's lust my dear that leads you to sorrow, dont think he doesn't know what wilts your petals.

The body is a canvas, your heart the brush. For if you hands wernt mandated by lust, you'd whisper forever in my ear.
Our lips fit so perfectly together, and never have you seen a prime display of store-bought dreams.
Fingers graze the picture frame, the photograph dead and tear stained.
He moves his arms to trap you here, enough to say what he thinks of you. you move awkwardly toward his face, and the entire story is played out.

Played on and on and on and on, and over again.

so move your hands further south
and feel her poison leak into your mouth
id rather have my breath taken away, or asphyxiate, than hear my name float on blackened lungs.
or be the victor of battles still unwon.and have an inkless needle act as a pen. shot into my veins to search for apathy again.
so as this friction paves a way to 'happy', realize this is our anatomy.
and the arcane science of design, is nothing but a maze of curves and lines, that crashes into itself.
and we live here where heaven marries hell, for your 'god' and 'devil' lies in ourselves.
beauty equals intertia, some are destined to be alone, becasue were based on just how perfectly the skin fits our bones.
because im just not beautiful enough to stay
end heartache,or fuck your life away.


5.) Sincerely and Forever

Read this letter in reverse to feel, hear and rehearse the meaning that was hidden behind the words.
So cast the first stone, I'll follow in your wake, but I'm not sure if I can make myself at home.

Consider this/consider me to be the catalyst.
And I'll consider this diary to be an obituary.
My name was written off before I knew the English language.

Dear ambulance- take me places I've never been, and heal the wounds I could never touch.
I missed a second chance...And this romance bleeds and burns more everyday.. I'll pray for twisted roads just to say I've lost my way home. - Sincerely and forever.

And friends will fail, and your heart will break.
Your mind will close and you'll fall asleep with one eye open..
But dear your lungs may rust, and the things you lust will turn to wilted petals of a rose whose thorns have been dulled by the parasite of conformity.
And how I'd love to hold you but even the dullest thorns tease these weakened wrists.

Dear ambulance- take me places I've never been, and heal the wounds I could never touch.
I missed a second chance...And this romance bleeds and burns more everyday.. I'll pray for twisted roads just to say I've lost my way home. - Sincerely and forever.

Rhetoric fails.. And mediocrity is my countervail.
Now that endearments have become so stale,
The frailty of emotion has proven to be the bane of our existence.

[sincerely and forever, these words were, written on my wrists, and never - never has this meant to much- forever]

Sincerely and forever these sentiments of love have severed the chains of reality


6.) Monarchy Behind the Trigger

here i am. broken again. against the chipped walls. here in this place, chalkboard rebellions reign. its comatose but it keeps them sane. their cancer in remission, and im just another anthem written. written like the words on my wrists. they mean nothing to you. ive been used symbolically with 'disaster' and 'tragedy'. they've never found the miscreant. the enemy lies somewhere between our eyes and the keyhole, we push our head closer, just to get a good look at another youth-filled travesty. been used for nihilistic needs, lacking aesthetically, memories and torment the driving force behind my extinction.iam what you have created, an abomination, an atrocity. but the more you put me, the cancer into remission, is the more you cry for attention. ive seen this every time youve pushed me to my knees. ive been shrouded in your disease for far too long, nullifying the pain with prosthetics and rusted lungs. ive screamed my heart out, lungs full of blood collapse onto a broken; splintering ribcage torn away, and the abiotic shreds of a broken icon lie somewhere in this mess that was caused by a head-on collision with empty romances and broken-legged dances. ive spoke more than youve ever heard, choked on words you will enver learn, and asphyxiated on diversity in the subtlest way imaginable.

tangible was found this morning hanging six inches above its bed. time passes still even after the sanity of this community has been dead. paper hearts folded to paper planes and got stuck in trees somewhere between euphoria and acriomony. every asper reverie was turned to reality and laced with a bullet. the sun betrayed me today, and left me with another reason not to stay. ive written thousands of 'what ifs' and 'sincerely yours'. my thoughts residing somewhere between the dislexic acts of sexists and racists. its a shame isnt it? the way orthodox continues to rot on broken thoughts and suicidal tendencies. oh its heresy that i pulled this on all of you, and its a tragedy what you pulled on me.

"its not your fault" runs in full circles. and iam left with shredded wrists. pray for me, or is your deity lost in the sky somewhere. i hope this emblem burns a cross into my neck, so you can see just exactly what i'am the martyr for.

im a martyr for a cause, and a cause for concern. youve cried for relevance but you still havent learned- you arent the heroes, you are the miscreant.

and the blood runs down my back, and you know i wouldve found it funny and i think i wouldve laughed.. but now im colder than your heart, colder than anything youve ever said to me. you pushed me to my knees and put this gun to my head. much like i did to you. but you spoke metaphorically, and i speak the truth.

so tommorrow when you see that empty chair, i hope you cry for hours. because when that tear hits your hair, youll wish me away, pretend i didnt take the people you considered your family. i hope you know, they didnt love you, they fade away with fashion. they cashed in what you thought of them for pennies they threw to fountains. i hope it brings up scars as large as mountains. you know i was never good at telling you exactly how i feel. im afraid your sheer poetry. you caused the demise that ended the life of a dozen children who never quite seen with thier own eyes. they were somehow corroded, by some sort of erosion that makes being blind a trip to paradise.

the tempest storms over your windows as if it knew you were guilty, and craving your own destruction. its as if the raindrops are tears, and your one among them. these tears limit you when you find out its only drizziling. your storm of the night sky was some forlorn dream of perfection and desire were shot down as they flew by. one thing ill never understand is how you nursed it back to life. clipped its wings and still let it fly. i hate the way the concealer bleeds from your eyes. your pupils streaming down wasted life. i miss you where i am, even if you never said a word to me. a lot like dying trees, as they wither away from summer with winters blasphemy. they know its coming, but they still push themselves and never resort to running away. its the rush it gives me, when i knew i slipped through your fingers, and im crushed by his fist. i hate the way he always seems to control you and hurt you, but you stay by him becuase hes beautiful.

your the hammer that flung this bullet through the hearts and minds of everything we wanted to be. i tried so hard, but i didnt pull this trigger. i swear i just closed my eyes and hoped the one who got in the pathway of this bullet breathed their last sigh of life thinking about whom they love the most. this is romance you know. the way we mourn life even at our death. you know im not sorry, and i dont want you to forget everything i couldve done for you.

but here you are broke (along with me) . emotion has finally tied its finger around neck. it wont let you go just yet, put your back to this tapestry, and watch as blood paints misery and beauty all in some sort of amalgamation of self loathing and self regret. all i ever wanted you was to remember my name. and in this moment, where you watch your life as a movie, flash against the wall, the story's repeating, and were lost in the fall of flesh. REMEMBER ME, REMEMBER ME. DARLING YOU NEVER BLINK YOUR EYES AT ME.

your ashes are scattered at sea. mine are buried six feet deep.
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Beauty for the Boys and Girls [15 Apr 2004|10:00pm]

[ mood | artistic ]

Yessir I have got this up. So far the only members of the band that are avid internet users are me and Jack.

Most of what Jack says is nonsense about how much he loves to tickle butts. And excuse the way he types. Please.

Yes so we may be playing a show in May. I'll give more details on that as it comes available.

-Joe, Vocalist of AE and creater of the community you see here.

(thank you Amanda for that the availablity of the image!)

Look what, Look what suprised me...

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