The Ceasing Now Lyrics
| Song | The Ceasing Now |
| Artist | Parts & Labor |
| Album | Receivers |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Parts & Labor | |
| Tacit acquiescence quaintly burns till we acquire | |
| A pride in all the work we have not done | |
| Begging retired accusations we sickly string ourselves along | |
| Rightly fighting for a future free from formless ire | |
| How the desperate long to be enthralled | |
| We bite the mouths off our emotions | |
| And light the days on fire | |
| Choking under gathering smoke we crawl | |
| Through the fetid on and onning | |
| Drifting in a mire | |
| It helps to feel those brighter days are gone | |
| Savor the power of revision | |
| The hurt returns a liar | |
| Mindful of a tedium prolonged | |
| Wistful with a withering tongue | |
| Grown and wrong | |
| Surviving the close calls | |
| While we're always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist's pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| It only matters that we chose | |
| As the surgeon's scalpel's dulling the patient should inquire | |
| If this instrument is worth its salt | |
| Still he insists on this incision | |
| The situation's dire | |
| Slicing out the faults right from wrong | |
| Is there a chance this cancer still belongs | |
| Sponge the inhibition keeps the host feeling too strong | |
| Grown and wrong | |
| Surviving the close calls | |
| While we're always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist's pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| What matters | |
| We're surviving the close calls | |
| While we're always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist's pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| It only matters that we chose |
| zuo qu : Parts Labor | |
| Tacit acquiescence quaintly burns till we acquire | |
| A pride in all the work we have not done | |
| Begging retired accusations we sickly string ourselves along | |
| Rightly fighting for a future free from formless ire | |
| How the desperate long to be enthralled | |
| We bite the mouths off our emotions | |
| And light the days on fire | |
| Choking under gathering smoke we crawl | |
| Through the fetid on and onning | |
| Drifting in a mire | |
| It helps to feel those brighter days are gone | |
| Savor the power of revision | |
| The hurt returns a liar | |
| Mindful of a tedium prolonged | |
| Wistful with a withering tongue | |
| Grown and wrong | |
| Surviving the close calls | |
| While we' re always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist' s pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| It only matters that we chose | |
| As the surgeon' s scalpel' s dulling the patient should inquire | |
| If this instrument is worth its salt | |
| Still he insists on this incision | |
| The situation' s dire | |
| Slicing out the faults right from wrong | |
| Is there a chance this cancer still belongs | |
| Sponge the inhibition keeps the host feeling too strong | |
| Grown and wrong | |
| Surviving the close calls | |
| While we' re always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist' s pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| What matters | |
| We' re surviving the close calls | |
| While we' re always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist' s pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| It only matters that we chose |
| zuò qǔ : Parts Labor | |
| Tacit acquiescence quaintly burns till we acquire | |
| A pride in all the work we have not done | |
| Begging retired accusations we sickly string ourselves along | |
| Rightly fighting for a future free from formless ire | |
| How the desperate long to be enthralled | |
| We bite the mouths off our emotions | |
| And light the days on fire | |
| Choking under gathering smoke we crawl | |
| Through the fetid on and onning | |
| Drifting in a mire | |
| It helps to feel those brighter days are gone | |
| Savor the power of revision | |
| The hurt returns a liar | |
| Mindful of a tedium prolonged | |
| Wistful with a withering tongue | |
| Grown and wrong | |
| Surviving the close calls | |
| While we' re always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist' s pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| It only matters that we chose | |
| As the surgeon' s scalpel' s dulling the patient should inquire | |
| If this instrument is worth its salt | |
| Still he insists on this incision | |
| The situation' s dire | |
| Slicing out the faults right from wrong | |
| Is there a chance this cancer still belongs | |
| Sponge the inhibition keeps the host feeling too strong | |
| Grown and wrong | |
| Surviving the close calls | |
| While we' re always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist' s pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| What matters | |
| We' re surviving the close calls | |
| While we' re always revising our roles | |
| Seizing the ceasing now | |
| As our aims miss our goals | |
| We size up our downfalls | |
| While we undress the pessimist' s pose | |
| Our tattered yes and nos | |
| It only matters that we chose |
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