Uploaded February 2012 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
Artist: Gifts From Enola
Song: Thawed Horizon
Album: From Fathoms (LYRICS BELOW)
Taking requests for future uploads, send a message with a request!
"There's always something. Whether it's drugs, fast food, empty sex, the dead weight of some pointless fucking celebrity or a reality television obsession. We're all drowning in something: Fear--fear of the future, fear of death; an endless fruitless quest for success and social acceptance. There are oceans over all of us. Oceans of something that flood our skulls at night and slowly erode us and wash our dreams away. And we pour out from our eyes when our minds just can't hold anymore. And we don't have to blame anyone, anybody, but ourselves. We need to think that we're being held under, that there's some other hands around our throats or on the back of our heads grabbing our ankles and pulling us down. But I think if we were to just open our eyes for a second, I mean wake up, and snap out of this self-deprecating siren song that we all sing to each other, I think that we would see that those hands are our own. If we would look up to the surface, I think we would see others reaching down, begging us to come up into the sun, and just breathe."
Artist: Gifts From Enola
Song: Thawed Horizon
Album: From Fathoms (LYRICS BELOW)
Taking requests for future uploads, send a message with a request!
"There's always something. Whether it's drugs, fast food, empty sex, the dead weight of some pointless fucking celebrity or a reality television obsession. We're all drowning in something: Fear--fear of the future, fear of death; an endless fruitless quest for success and social acceptance. There are oceans over all of us. Oceans of something that flood our skulls at night and slowly erode us and wash our dreams away. And we pour out from our eyes when our minds just can't hold anymore. And we don't have to blame anyone, anybody, but ourselves. We need to think that we're being held under, that there's some other hands around our throats or on the back of our heads grabbing our ankles and pulling us down. But I think if we were to just open our eyes for a second, I mean wake up, and snap out of this self-deprecating siren song that we all sing to each other, I think that we would see that those hands are our own. If we would look up to the surface, I think we would see others reaching down, begging us to come up into the sun, and just breathe."
