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Heart To Grow

by ASTPAI

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1.
it's the knowledge that seperates, it's the ideals that devide. but what if it's only ourselves getting burnt by our fire inside? when dreams become a noise in the background, in the backyard of all the monstrous jails scraping the sky, covered by bright lights and glamorous banners, it'll be hard to keep on track, it'll be hard to keep in touch and to keep in mind, who banned us from ourselves. once we fully accepted our convenience as a fucking statement, once we can't stop the beat of growing fences around our very kingdom - both our mekka and our grave, once communication completely lost its wings on the battlefield of silence let's be prepared. let's be prepared. kept in stock, filed and destined, we'll be waiting for each our moment, to finally become one of the wastable wires, to know, that there's still so much - so much legwork to be done - to feel, that there are still so many - so many decisions to be made - seeing, that it's still such little change that has happened, gets and keeps me on my way. heading for a new kind of dawn. a new kind of everything.
2.
it's ebb and flow, it's ebb and flow: people come and people go. i just wish i could feel the things i already know. leaving the party to its people and movement to the pit. When was the moment i decided to no longer be part of it? it's images and telling - well it's reading between the lines. seeing that people changed unnoticed makes me want to lose my mind and well i know - self-pity-shit as i made space for it damn well i know that time just might never be any close to right to explain what’s on my mind. one day we will have hands to shake, a drink or two and forgiveness to fake. friends to share - same time, same place no hello-hugs but good memories to embrace
3.
"i am my own boss" i yell, "alright then" he replies, "i'll prove that you are nothing, nothing in my eyes. and these eyes were picked by millions - at least that's what millions believe - but hey it's hard work playing two parts both the sheriff and the thieve" and of course i care about opinions, no matter how mundane, no matter how insane. but this here is just different. This is just not the same. it's opinions and assholes and assholes and their games. - games, not only border cops love to play. a bad day, maybe lack of sleep sold as home security. even once you're trying to play fair they still prefer you on your knees begging for your release through payment from this bureaucratic hell. Yeah, sure sometimes it's sleepless nights, still crime is saving cash and time! - still crime’s saving money and time. „i am my own boss“ i yell „i’ll prove that you are nothing, and once you’re sick of waiting for actions and tired of hearing shallow lies, we got you right where you belong: in a system that will always be keeping you in line“
4.
den zweck wohl überlegt, die mittel selbst zugeteilt - von durchschuss nicht zu sprechen, (hier wird) gezielt, gefeuert und verweilt. orgasmisch gut und soviel stolz auf all die wut und ihre show. gedanke eins: "stirb' ab, was solls" nummer zwei: "halt' fest woran es sich noch lohnt!" denn eins ist klar, die sympathie die bleibt ist nicht bloß zeugnis stumpfer sucht. da steht weit mehr auf dem spiel. zwischen identifikation und dem gefühl, da geht noch mehr, riskiert man immer unbeschreiblich viel - ob man nicht oder will.
5.
Southwards 03:15
the feelings i had for this place once unknown, remain as feelings i fear, rather than a place to feel home and while seasons keep dying i already stopped trying to get emotions in line everytime your eyes hit mine. it's decisions i've made that caused both love and hate - for all that i am, for all that i am for all that i'm not, for ways that i cut, for every feeling i choked and the promises i broke but to live - not survive - it's just impossible! but to live - not survive - as a part of this place is only bearable while i'm away.
6.
"360 PER SECOND" we all know this world only needs one day to spin - 24 hours to spin 360! i just need a second or two and so do you don't lose yourself in impressions selling you short and impressions telling you you’re weak - let the impression start with you! to the ones burnt out by daily test, the pain ripping through your chest, to the hate and to every step it takes: tear lifelesness apart, turn emotions upside down, see hearts turn into arrows and arrows into hearts. and remember, the only chance to write your story bold is by drawing fucking thin, thin lines. - thin, thin lines a hundred times.
7.
walking frozen puddles of rain, we made sure to excite our feet for a return with empty cups in spring. step by step - like hundreds of unwritten rules. this still seems to work out so well, so fine, so somehow. oh thought settle down deep in my mind, become a plan - so complex and still so well combined: the fear, degrees could miss their call, - although they never do after all these days and nights of being banned - let's catch some raindrops right before they fall. like i always make you amplify the sounds i hear - with fading smiles on your lips and this fake shake on your hips, it's a thankful apology, a pleased regret, (or just) another roadmark, i'm trying to forget. 2,3,4 – again we’re ready, set - another roadmark, i'm trying to forget. "so you know" ain't "so you wish" sometimes, but miles and miles, breaks and miles i am about. this and preparation, endless preparation.
8.
a restless pair of feet, an exhausted pair of eyes, tired lung and dead-milked trials. please call it like you were used to do, just like i always used to hope that this ain't a talk in tongues between eyebrows screaming "now" and bottom lips whispering "how". whos right to suppose? and whos first step? and still another roadmark, i'm trying to regret. i wished that i knew better - knew better what appeared to me clearer than the dark of night: that it only works keeping two different souls in this plastic world together, as long as they can't reach outside. make first impressions count, keep experiences safe, just like frozen sidewalks will never be the safest ways. wrap your feet in common lies and pray to make 'em stay, still walking frozen sidewalks will never be the safest way.
9.
this is counting. one after another, be it seconds, be it roadmarks, be it nerves passing by. your barricade/monument consists of cracked bricks longing for rehabilitation in a new fate. i fall asleep to the sound of tiny hammers (carefully) engraving your face into my sleep. equipped with a heavy heart and confusion, i just crawled back half the distance from here to the cracking source. on this plank i'm desperately waiting - i'm waiting here for you as you dive up, feet first, rewinding all you've been put through. if you would only let me sleep! if you could only let me sleep! release the cosy chains made of countless herds of sheep. if you would only let me sleep. this is counting one after another, seconds, roadmarks, nerves passing by. deconstruction never felt this hard. though cracked bricks got nothing to hold on to. i should have known it better from the start, that they at least hold on to each other. that they at least hold on to you. if you would only let me sleep. if you would only let me sleep.
10.
from the single spinning wheel to the constant thrill of not losing our minds. i just can't tell, i just can't tell if this really helps my heart to grow, 'cause right now it feels like spilling it all over different places, different faces. and if that's the case, what will be left when i get home?! distance barely has a thing to say on this pile of feelings anyway it’s dead end for all well considered, just a twisted mind is left to pray that fate somehow helps this place to grow, as it never ever felt this small. even rememberance's spilled all over various bases, various traces. and it's right and order in every drop behind every border. again i'm out in the night, hoping that this time i drown myself in answers not questions - at least no further suggestions. to all the thieves: you're safe, relief! as long as there is any attraction to my words and actions.
11.
On Your Own 04:35
i still remember the warm smiles, we were tiny steps away from shaking hands. A: "it always depends on what you REALLY need this time for your own, on your own" B: „so what's your point again in stabbing backs and wasting time?! 'cause to me it ain't that hard to see, ain't that hard to know i'm fine.“ A: "so you have seen the same..." B: "...and we've seen a lot!" A: "yeah, but i'm still thankful for what i got, while cutting ways ain't shorten time - a cut worth to be redefined" B: "i backed up, i shut down, restarted simulating so many times, still to me it ain't that hard to see, ain't that hard to know i'm fine" words haunting, underlining the last doubts remaining almost silent. i still remember the warm smiles, we were tiny steps away from shaking hands.

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released by
jumpstartrecords.com (usa/canada)
asscardrecords.com (europe)
noreasonrecords.com (italy)

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released September 18, 2010

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ASTPAI Wiener Neustadt, Austria

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