No Thing from Impermanence by Average Joey

Identified, Defined
Through cyclical separation
Deep breath, slow death
A hole in my chest
An empty severed head

When vision’s an outward gaze
Focas fades and blurs
Reflections tend to lend themselves
To the rippling of the water

Travel en masse
Vast and wide
Just to be all alone again

Internal hurt, eternal thirst
We must learn to earn ourselves
An open weeping wound
May be used as a healing tool
But the blade may be removed
And wielded as a weapon

Will we wander our whole lives
Wondering what could be
Will we ever be set free
From this tension and release

The gap that passion strives to bridge
Sets the same flame that makes it burn
And extended empty hand
Holds the holy nothing to be learned

• Acoustic
• DIY
• banjo
• folk
• folk punk
• poetry
• Pittsburgh