Music World
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
   
  Forgot your password?
 
Find Artists:
 
 
 
Russian versionSwitch to Russian 
The Faint
The Faint


Background information
Origin Omaha, Nebraska
Genre(s) Indie Rock
Post-punk Revival
Dance-punk
New Wave
Years active 1995—present
Label(s) Saddle Creek Records
Associated acts Vverevvolf Grehv
Broken Spindles
Depressed Buttons
Website Website
Members
Todd Fink
Jacob Thiele
Dapose
Joel Petersen
Clark Baechle
Former members
Conor Oberst
Matt Bowen



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  T  →  The Faint  →  Albums  →  Media

The Faint Album


Media (03/24/1998)
03/24/1998
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
Getting<=>Giving The Lock
10.
11.
12.
. . .


understand,
i don't care if i meet you
and you don't care if we meet
it's just conversation
we're not so compatible
but at least we know
and we don't care.

(chorus) syntax lies
no difference in art and life
it's just what we say
and the order the words go (the order the words go!)
it's time we needed an aggravist
one that wouldn't make us laugh
and has severed how we used to speak.
concepts of language around his waist
but more dimensionally versed
he has severed how we used to speak.

call it backwards
overlapping
ultra modern
more slowly please
they mistook it for religion
but the truth unfolds
we devo
without knowing
same language equals same story
the new version is confusing
sharp tongue
glass blood

grammar: its comedic
we're corrected
we need a stoplight division to the next calender.. year!

it's time we needed an aggravist
one that wouldn't make us laugh
but has severed how we used to speak.
concepts of language around his waist
but more dimensionally versed
he has severed how we used to speak.

i understand,
it's just conversation
but it eliminates how i really feel...

. . .


passenger leaves
i know, the pictures turned out too clearly
some felt blank
but still others emit true feeling
once he liked it
twice he needed
it was three until he stands believing
the reason he can't pursue it
the list goes on and on
so what went wrong
is your destination dwelling deep inside my all secluded loop
my lungs, will not push for ways to say
my arms are crossing just in case of you
but the difference i couldn't tell
his seams fall out of place when he agrees to pardon
he wakes beneath her glaring stare
he's not locked in anymore
with all these plans and separations
the two weren't burying stones
and what happens near the others,
there is still a shadow following him around
he's scarred by stalking through the wearied entrance to his sunburnt heart
her locking fists remind him who she wants

. . .


all the doctor talk
of all the doctor trouble
all the time payed off
but there's a night to remember, when the quarters stopped
diving in the cup
dr. back to work stumbling through the hall
he made it to a room
a lady old and calloused
is staring back at him
he doesn't think that she notices
as the dr. talks
his slurring causes trouble
they breath a bit of breath
once the surgery's over
hey daniel eckerson
where's your sadness
your apathy has mothers crying
but it's nothing 'til it comes to a court who finds a hold in the defense
he stays when the cannot prove beyond a doubt
a word of what was said
and the dr. choked
his hearing started monday
all his time ran out
since the media ran it
hey daniel eckerson
where's your sadness
your apathy has left a knife in her gut.

. . .


we hear the talk
we settle down
release the thought
we get along
i don't know which is better now, this
backwardness or my own imbalance, we can
stand each other when there's nothing else
there is no
way to compromise when
no one cars
when the action dies, the crowd awakes to the truth
this city was cut from your saga
so hold yourself for the first in line
or wait until the action dies

. . .


our eyes are moving
forward faster than
these tangled chords
i noticed that you want to leave
we've burned out fast
deciding who could complicate us and
what comes next
so here's my proposition: while our work gets started
we'll keep expected formula strong
but i guess i won't be with who i belong
and here's my job
but i miss something
my line of focus is centered on narrow thinking
and not from what i think is good on its own
it's fading out
well who can't do it
pop is based on the most intimate charge
but where it's at
the scene permits it
they're not concerned with technique
feeling is all
and when words spit out and i disintigrate
maybe i'm not in such control
maybe i needed enough to get me through this
and then into breaking up form

. . .


i've been
typing for hours while he waits
alone in the bushes
there's a guy on the back lawn
he can look under mats but he won't get in
he scales the walls with almost no sound
i'm sitting dead still with the light on
i'm sending off my resignation
before he gets to all i got
i'm staring at nothing
my frozen joints all broke away
i'm sending off to find them

. . .


They were confused
They were in luck
They figured it out
They all made it up
The man in the sky
Is angry tonight
And the kids don't care anymore

. . .


campus is getting bigger they are working on it all the time
Acting on the tv
i can see their faces
red alert, the siren's loud, the drafted are all coming back
this job takes dedication
when things start with no beginning
it doesn't mean that they aren't true
as the current through the atlas
nips the wrist with a fork through it
half the battles fueled with hate
"many loathsome fights were sacred!"
shout the crew who hold their swatches
they paint on the set and cry
ice is plastic enough to try to sculpt wiht it
the color curdles and waves drip down
and i'm still thinking about the time a scene takes them
the dormitories are awful quiet
acting on the tv
and he's not pretending
i'm convinced that there's not someone else beneath
the pixeled screen
an army edit
the set was finished last
ice is plastic enough
to try to sculpt with it
color curdles and waves drip down
i'm still thinking about the time a scene takes up
the dormitories are awful quiet
and these swollen eyes
and static lens
they blink when there's nothing but tv
we beg for it
to calm us down
and believe that it's real what they're doing
these swollen eyes
and static lenses
they blink on and off and off and on

. . .

Getting<=>Giving The Lock

[No lyrics]

. . .


her brow: pensive
her knees: away
i stand beside her
but look straight ahead, and dissolve
Before the night began on herring st. a book from school kept me wondering
this may take a while i might never see this through
and they said that chapter four repeats itself, along with three so far
....where are you, tonight?
Its crowded at this sokol club
and tonight will be the same
i want her walk to scream with confidence
above me
i try to hide my thoughts and i, stare blankly through her face
this seems so senseless
She sees me breathing my hands are crippled clay
this could have been different i hear myself say it again
again, again!
i break into a crowd of people i don't know which ones to trust...
do you?

. . .


delivery this morning
our clothes are hung to dry
we're visiting the selling's
on the shore of the puget sound
the scenery gets a hold of you like a bad record
there's something not as valid when the scenery's a postcard
and the view from the glass is just the glass upon the finish
and the conversations people have about the lush surroundings
are all tainted by the cards they got from travelling companions
olympia is shorter to the street than what i thought
the view from in the city
isn't scenery at all
but it gets a hold of you like a bad record

. . .


loud for a reason
the reason wasn't what was heard
the traffic had died down
the road congestion has moved to the bars
where a lot arrived in makeup
one is standkng with her back against the wall
one shot, an allusion passes through her sunken eyes
while he waits
on some kind of tragic dose before he moves in
and i don't know why this feeling caused me to leave
but i do know why he's lining up
distant raise, no commitment at all
i want the standard of coupling introduced to myself
a key for a companion
i need to move away
all i do is watch
i wish i could battle it or care
the rest arrive in makeup
they're assertive in a bar where no one cares
and i don't know why seeing this caused me to leave
and i don't care how
but repeating this forms my belief
one shot a day
one chance for penance
free will is calling me closer to the grave
no one saves us
we stint the appraisals

. . .


blog comments powered by Disqus



© 2011 Music World. All rights reserved.