All we are is what we are
And we're barely
Hanging on this fleeting line
Like fumbling puppets of time
Grabbing everything as fast as we can
In an attempt to make things better
Helplessly feeble minds with futile tasks
To find happiness within this mortal grasp
So sure we've found it in every feeling of gain
Only to watch it all dissipate
When beauty starts to fade
When youth turns to gray
When strength begins to wane
When all the gods have failed
When all the glory turns to shame
When values are sent to the grave
This life is meaningless and grey
When even love turns to disdain
When everyone just goes away
And even love turns to disdain
When everyone just goes away
Until we feel nothing but the drain
By hanging on this fleeting line
Us - fumbling puppets of time
Still clutching whatever we can
Desperate to make things better
Hopelessly feeble minds and such joyless hearts
Maybe real happiness was not meant for us
Triviality embraced to numb the hurt
For what’s been missing
We hold on to what we can
But everything will still be nothing in the end
When the bitter wind is done blowing our sandcastles clear
When the bitter wind is done blowing our sandcastles clear
We hold on as tightly as we can
But everything still turns to nothing in the end
When the bitter wind is done blowing our sandcastles clear
When the bitter wind is done blowing our sandcastles clear
We hold on to what we can
But everything becomes nothing in the end
When the bitter wind is done blowing our sandcastles clear
When the bitter wind is done blowing our sandcastles clear
From the first deadened cowbell to the last dissonant guitar interval, Dutch quartet Geo's new record is shaped for impact. Bandcamp Album of the Day Apr 25, 2024