1. |
Blind Obedience
04:26
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"Master, where should we find silent sayest surrogate triviality?"
All efforts are undertaken under rigid orders and autonomous decisions.
Collective boiling of the red water might solve pure physical sense.
Unthinkingly, like animals, satisfied and in use of blind obedience.
Only minimal effort is necessary to satisfy one's physical needs.
A requirement is a moderate amount of intelligence and simple obedience.
Pure surrogate activities bear us onward to one of the hard margins.
Company of souls gazing backward attain the goal.
Foregoing symptoms of whatever we like, the master has sharpened the guilt.
Recognized on a massive scale, experiencing abnormal conditions.
Inhabitants letting the trail go, bowing their faces all the time.
Moments stopped in time.
Living more by virtue of what the system does for them or to them.
Thus, the power of the process is disrupted through a deficiency in real goals.
Polluted air pushed into the cleanest and purest forms of life.
Extremely permissive threading the sand, placed on a virtual cross.
Throw thyself to overmaster with unnecessary and unimportant skills.
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2. |
Torrid Host
03:24
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"Whence, utterly bewildered, broken and against I stood still.
So many voices issued through the process of spanning the outline.
Developments have grown embrowned with boiling blood.
Thy hand should be more pitiful, stretched for greater sins."
"Feeling of inferiority, powerless, defeatism, guilt and self-hate.
You fight and argue unlocking and inlocking the hypersensitivity.
By the roots of unwanted, swear that faith isn't broken behavior."
"Not every leisured emperor becomes bored and demoralized.
Memory comfort always lied and prostrated that envy who deal with it.
Surrogate activities are mostly less satisfying than the pursuit of real goals,
even if their need for power processes is already fulfilled."
"My native place constrained us, gathered us, scattered us, disparted we walk again on the edge.
Supine upon the ground, manifested unto shrunken blind eyes.
Naked souls weeping dreaded soil made of arid and thick sand."
"Those motivated to go round, pursue that, example taken.
For many if not most trampled down the soil and torrid host.
Descending in eternal heat, even the ashes will make ashes
without repurposed fresh gleeds, miserable master stand still."
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3. |
Bethoweth
03:53
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Courage is already fixed in my eyes, my hands are spread open for a leader.
I exclaim the words as explicitly as I can, raising my brows.
I am somewhat banishing and brainwashed, uncovered and scattered,
with a shadow on my side, finally gazing in solicitous suspicion.
I am bound in prison, in a mode for punishment, and an open account.
The answer is always so full, nothing more to be soaked up and received.
All my life they delayed my reactions, but I magnanimously approved them.
Continuing the final discourse, my tormenting eyes shall now unlearn sight.
I forget all and rekindle a desire chosen against my race, gender, or even age.
I stay alone and wear thorns as a mask, my cheeks crimson and shaken in shame.
Barefoot I walk hereafter, laying like walking in minds entangled in conception.
So much shine is imperfect, matted with force, an unnatural selection brought with time.
Being Bethoweth is a must, what else? A decent life, what less? Compensated and instant.
From grade to grade, you can already see, you are leaving, small pieces of freedom.
The spirit logged with only earthly and falsely sight alone for suffice.
Prepare paper master, shiny and plastic excavations became new religions and muse.
Driven by dopamine clouds and food reflecting only envy and luck.
In a marginalized cruel circle, the cold tomb, little used but still shinier than the neighbor's.
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4. |
Intercessors
04:28
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Welcome to the future, my opponent and companion.
Deceiving concerns, our black blossom remains
Carried by nine foreign elder martyrs.
Commonwealth broken in unearthed poisoned magpies.
Concealed in lightness, brave countervail belies.
Sudden intercessors stretched their bruises and crust.
Downward the spiral on a hardened bed full of banishment.
Manners left yourself forthwith, sooner than imprint.
Thereupon, an extended sidelong bridge full of sinners
Recounted grapplers, departed with anger in their look.
Forage faked again, under the guilt and depraved souls.
A strong and bold voice in the head exhausted precipitously.
A rigid election strained both the broken and the bought,
Foist will go, find the copy of the betrayed flag.
Deceived bashfully, injured and deprived of life.
A bestial guide, vengeance pours down in single mule.
A beast and thinned sinner with impetuous and bitter tempest
Will suddenly rend through the sundered mist.
There is only one conclusion when we need a choice.
A thief will seed excellently, probably rebound and recoil.
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5. |
Scourge
04:00
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Come, change! Come, mask! Blend me into modern mankind.
Sew the newest fabric of actual modern mind.
Detonate toil into sundered veins, bleached and blind.
Monster of beatitude, with madness in my eyes I become.
The altar of the shore will wait untouched,
conquered with vision passed to the begotten child.
Lightning path as curtain from never until now,
driven on laughing lion, into the wanton womb.
Silence like sword, behold boundless farness herein.
Martyrdom of blessedness, yet not living or dead.
Sealed with signet of the midden mould,
cannot deny the demands of steel plummet gap.
Hoping in fear, offering urgent confession in gold.
There was no past in the path to becoming a venerable hermit.
Blunders revealed, infection was obviously visible,
unhidden, fatal batten dazed blackened wraps.
Solitary star constrained by the brood,
for lure, for light, for a scourge,
for anything that burdens a bliss for stormy jiffy.
Never sworn to endure, always imprisoned and exiled.
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6. |
Swelled Cracks
04:04
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Somewhat he deems from becks, but still keeps the letters,
with keys fixed upon the sun in the glasses mirror.
The circuit with knots for envy, the hand will correct what is drawn.
Walking on water is the sight of semblances and clarity.
Most of them will stir and ask for compassion,
not because of sound, but because of the sight of their misery.
It is wrong, I think, to look away from the saga that won't stop.
Lawnlords hear and answer from the space they can hear.
Mute beside us is not so strange anymore, but kindred,
confounded with their naïveté and ruined hopes, they mourn.
Mountain wind, charity that we wait for, favors the frame.
Dots connected, fitting the pattern, no worries anymore.
Disastrous influences, misguiding our custom-shaped gods,
the dwellers won't find the crack anymore soon.
Swells and fox races won't fear the skilled masters
A hunter smears with gore, leaving all for a thousand years and more.
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7. |
Degradation Wage
05:43
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"A broken wheel narrows the sphere of freedom, downward to the core.
Found in the resounding dark, the tinted water of a single ceap offends.
Reverberations above the absurd example eliminate hereditary resistance.
Attention to agreeable pursuits descends upon the painted souls.
Degradation to some novelty responds as wisdom beholds the act.
Conductors still command the cautions followed by distance.
At the ward, that dense and darksome atmosphere returns and goes down.
Problems solved on self-interest pursuing their own principles.
Thus, it is clear that humans have at best a very limited capacity
for solving even relatively straightforward social problems.
How then will they solve far more difficult
and subtle problems of reconciling freedom with technology?
Upward stretches and draws in feet behold the monsters on tail.
Cleaves the hills, breaketh walls of the easily obscured deceit.
It is conceivable that our serpent's paws covered more than tissue.
Interest in thievery sometimes wherries lie upon the shore.
Parts of stressed importance in the water and parts of land.
Planning the wage of war lay upon the contouring border.
Sitting near the hollow place, checking the concise condition,
experiencing returns us to the conversations and melancholy."
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8. |
Evaporation
06:09
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You whispered in my ear:
"Climb higher, gargoyle clone,
Make yourself a garden full of daffodils
to rest your bones upon the drizzle of one who holds.
In those cursed furrows, be a clone or be accurate.
The lone, ablazed and calcined primordial germ,
I am wholly effort, absolved truth and mist beyond.
Just like the substance of the sun is also atoms, an inscrutable bond.
Am I necessary? In all fullness of naught, I become.
Spirit that wantons and weeps, astonish me in sleep.
Carving, craving, perishing precursor of storm.
Delirium is my strength, my reality full of diseases.
Imposted, I stand, I dream whirlwind filling memories around.
Without substance in silence, I am stabbed with falsehood eternity.
Seized and intermixed, a perverted serpent of dim and gaze.
Labored, immersed against becoming a tyrant.
Putting my foot once again on the throat of yours truly.
Converting me blindly, burning around while walking
With one leg modulated in a walk on the glorious edge of all.
Proud laments are carved in papers departed from all.
Converted, I stand, barely visible, with permission to evaporate."
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