Ed Warner is fucking dead

by ED WARNER

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03:17
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05:07
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04:00

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released April 6, 2016

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ED WARNER Charleville Mézières, France

Screamo-indie band from France.

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Track Name: La dépouille du soldat baleine
Their words are so hard sometimes, they depreciate me so many times
Where's cum in that derisive pleasure ? I know by heart what you never imagined
The bullying evil triangle : actors, victims, spectators
After voices got lost, words are still alive, Blind and deaf are all the same.

I hate you, laymen crowds, keep your tongues immured
The pains can be bitter, the release can be slippery
The Trumpets of youth scratched your lack of experience
I always need the pain to be reassured, the fear to feel consoled

Since you, I live in an imaginary world, My thoughts as only refuge
Social phobia turns me into another monster, When truth and fiction collide
The more you mock me, the more I believe it ...
It's like dying on your own terms. Through the big public mass of lynching

Pervert executioner, please Pay attention to this
What waits for you is rebellion and remorse by millions
You wont ever remind me, sinked into forgivness, youth can be cruelty
When the only weapon is a narcissic violence, When you cant event obtain indifference
Nothing ever erase, neither words nor time
I will need a whole life to reach normality
Track Name: Lymphatisme
Sweet enemy of dignity
Chronicle apathy you swim into
Existence too short for last scared members of the element
Life on the edge is so practical, so easy to deny
Please help yourself to stop falling
Nothingness’s addiction is not irreversible
A sensation of transgression enclosed world of clones
Maybe one day you will see the ghost of your own life
Time and stubbornness lock small spirits
Into a cramped convent, they became unable to get out of here anymore
Look at you, pain necessary to know your contempt
An introspective amount of social poison
A sensation of transgression
Enclosed world of clones
Heart full of fat, brain full of shit
Progress requires diet to improve
Stupidity is laziness
It’s to say you’re alive and it’s good enough
Why should you need more than this necessary evil
Short ideas, saturated memory, another day not to face
Wandering of a soul witch drips along a life
Track Name: Obsolescence
I fuck the world because i hate it, I hate it because it's not what i want it to be. I'm an idealist, so what ? I still believe in obsolete values. My life is a quest for things that no longer exist, my ancestors were heroes but i'm just a beloved child. I'll probably die from an overdose or in a car crash while i'd die fighting
We cry to find in your eyes those two different Worlds
A misty sadness to have believed for a moment
That the world dreamed with our eyes...
Consumer turns into Consumed without more need
Growing for growing, here is the logic
Secret mechanism at the heart of everything,
Intimate, definite, inequitable program
Tyrannical apoptosis which ends every course
The Observer changes what he's looking at
Don't we believe that there will ever be an end ?
Even youth is not eternal
We are only collateral victims
loosing a part of our values, lost int he horn of plenty
absolute but obsolete
A headlong rush towards what, just a drive of survival.
Obsolescence is part of life, it was made to improve the system.
To acquire is a right but to possess is against the necessary renewal of productions.

In a world where God is the only social success, i'm still searching for hope in their speeches, poetry on their faces, ideals in their ideas but people don't care, they walk quickly, badly dressed, their eyes emptied by concerns. And i can't do anything for them, I can't do anything for anybody
Track Name: Love 2.0
I know that it's a trap, a game for the well-to-do boring spirits.
The boat is made of glass, The armor made of sand
What's real in that sensual journey, in those imaginary smiles
Feelings with no objective sense but true echo of the mind

Is it worship or love of own illusions, Where's the reality in this sharing ?
Like crying for a movie, Like laughing for a book
A weird interaction born from smugness ?
An Imminent fustration born from absence ?

Anonymous hearts can collapse dreams, give in to confidences
Though a certain impotence, it gives life a sense, erases solitude
Impalpable things, Imaginary links, amplified by the secrets
A weaved cloth towards fantasy, intensified by the lack

One day or another, wings should be displayed
To live the carnal love, to break the barriers of virtual
The risk of disappointment, the reward is plenitude
Like facing your demons again and again.

Tout ce qu'on vit comme sentiment, comme passion, tout est fantasme. On est d'autant plus attaché à son rêve qu'il s'agit d'un rêve. Parce que renoncer à un fantasme est bien plus facile que renoncer à une réalité qui s'achève …



Homo Erectus : In difference ...
Homo Abilis : Lymphatisme
Homo Sapiens : Love 2.0
Homo Economicus : Obsolescence