Soft Weather - Nostalgia

Bonus track. This is Jar v.2.0. I know "nostalgia" isn't pronounced like that.
"Bliss" deals with ideas of primitivism and going back to times where human consciousness did not exist. Particularly, it covers the moment before, during and after its death. Released July 31, 2024.
Alexander "Derevo" Dyakonov - music
Sofya "Vein" Golovinova - artwork, overall support
What am I left with to love, nostalgia's eaten away
My heart, with this perfect far cry from reality, iron grey moonlight lights up
All I now know is my past rushing past all the present, this sea of tranquility rumbling
Distancing, twinkling the lights on horizon, that's me and my thoughts in my eyes
Lights up my cigarette, night, talks with you smiling away
Eyes are dead center, about otherworldliness, future decisions aborning
They almost crying, the weight of the midnight comes crushing me back in the light pushing forward
And trees, dumbly thrashing, conclude. Reflects on insomnia, coward
But I know. I know! these are places where through thick and thin we, your flame and I, wander so aching
The laughter, the laughter, the tears, and her face to my lips, there, wherever I goes
Swanning around, looks for rifts in you and in myself, voids agape, voids of our own making
And sadness and passion suck us in right into ourselves
Oh, have I known
Past hangs on my future, I
Would even with soil
Both our towns
Oh, have I known
Future hangs right on my past, I
Would be a hollow for you
To fill in
A charming sensation in all my nostalgia, going astray thinking I was with you
For so long, with sweet poisonous smoke, gloppy kisses and starveling swallows of breath
A charming sensation in all my nostalgia, tossing and turning in sheets of my grave
Breathing in bitter heat, kissing wooden putridity, burning in thoughts of its depth
Sleep's but a wistful remembrance of keeping wake, longing for past looking for painful future
And present converges in tired and blankest brain gnawing its limits and legs of the bed
Tumble, o child, your withdrawal is nothing compared to discomfort you are soon to feel
Tumble, o child, awake with a start