1. |
Adipocere
00:40
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2. |
Obsidian Silence
04:20
|
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|
As I approach the ocean
To become less young and green,
This place is fear to some
But solace to me.
There will be silence for a moment,
And I’ll truly know of peace,
Until I know my purpose,
I can make it all cease.
Two messengers come to me
To tell me of their woes,
One is sworn to secrecy,
The other just doesn’t know.
He despises his colleague’s superiority;
He’s ordered to go, he looks in hatred back at me.
There will be silence for a moment,
And I’ll know why I’m here.
I’ll return to the ocean,
And my destiny be clear.
Consumed in solace
Consumed in purpose.
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3. |
End is Nigh
02:48
|
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|
Fixating on the other side
Dissecting of the memory by
Contemplating regicide
Yearning for the final change.
Example of futures told
Disregarding elders old
The link that they had broken sold
And time was worth no weight in gold.
The swinging scythe can still be missed
A soul will be traded, the contract ripped
Whilst screaming heads nod to clenching fists
Awaiting the green grass that may exist.
Expected bliss, forgiving mist
Embraced unknown a wasted wish
Recurring themes, repeating lists
The truth of death’s arousing kiss.
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4. |
Hellfire Spits
03:25
|
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|
Growing pains fix the street at night
Structured heights scream peaceful
Sizing up on the sacred grounds
Everything is broken
Hellfire spits on the olive branch
Collected tears add nothing
A new hell buries old with every move
Mockingbirds of genocide mimicking their cries.
Think of the mothers who lost their own children
After they drop the bombs
Think of the sisters soon to be mothers
After they drop the bombs
Think of the people soon to be fighters
After they drop the bombs
Think of the future
Think of the martyred.
A western corpse comforts the settler who kill
Without guilt, shoot and cry – crocodiles weep at will;
Many lives equal the cost of bread,
And the world’s moral fabric is a nervous thread.
Will they have to be gone
For us to admit that we were wrong?
|
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5. |
Red Touches Yellow
02:07
|
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|
Out of the woods, a man approaches,
A venomous garden left behind;
Reaches out with a purple hand
Promising things that live beyond time.
A provisioner of poison –
A confident idiot
Sweating out a dream,
Fresh delirium falls in the dirt.
Up, down, down, down,
His promise to fruition,
A convulsive performance
Of religious precision.
|
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6. |
The Orchard
03:25
|
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|
I felt freedom in the fire that took our house in wrath.
Stop kicking through the ash, and walk down your chosen path.
Locusts in the orchard,
Praying, prophetic insects;
Jaws forming new life
Shed layers left behind
On apocalyptic silver,
Bound within these fences
That forbid the frontier
A week since you left, I’m still tending your trail of dust,
Here where you left off – seeking opportunity and lust.
Forgot my prayers again
Spoke to the sky – since I lost my friend,
There is enough disaster
To tell me to let it go,
But everything says no.
My blood from a stone,
I shake loose this suffering, this faith I’ve outgrown.
Seeking an exit
From austere landscape –
From catatonic guilt
To live for nature’s sake.
|
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7. |
Circle of Being
03:06
|
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|
I’ve carried my shotgun for so long, I forgot who I wanted to kill,
Authenticity – a regressive daydream –
I want to find it but I never will.
A flaccid image of tomorrow, something that I fear to see.
My sanctity of truth and living comes from limited memory.
A splendid coward fears the other, yet still expects the throne,
God damn this modern man who makes one feel so alone.
Condemn this modern plan – growing with the mold.
A futile imagination
Hoping for the worst.
A futile imagination
A violence well-rehearsed.
Twirling in an ouroboros of saviorism,
Sink into a pit of disgust of former altruism.
|
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8. |
A Splash of Blood
01:31
|
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|
Aesthetic seduction – an armed pageantry,
Moth to the myth
New heights of decadent dreams.
Danger of a dull blade, you
March a confused path,
But the road stops here
Because you were always chasing death.
|
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