1. |
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By no objective measure does the serpent bear any ill will,
but our blood runs cold, our breathing chokes at the sight of the snake
coiled round the oak. Hands tremble, trying to shelter, deflect,
the memories of the bites our fathers bore.
An infinite being, an omnipotent force
cannot endure under such truths.
Our innate hunger for meaning does not lead to any God.
Need not lead to God.
Thrust into being: life incarnate yet,
haunted by visions of an incomplete self.
Our dreams lie forever unfulfilled
and the truths we know come undone.
No blank canvas on which to project this worth.
Life too infinite, too vacuous to ever take positive form.
I'm too scared to turn this into something real
afraid to try just to fail.
Offer acceptance to the ache for society's demise.
Mankind's end by our own hands.
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2. |
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A gradual realisation of all colour drained from living.
A fog drenching all emotion in a blanket of detachment.
Once possessed a strength, now left me
and led me to wallow in all failure.
Searching for a light once burning
left to die, over years, untended.
Fallen far into the depths
of such boredom and loneliness.
A creeping tide of isolation and pathetic attempts at being social.
But all of my time is spent wishing for the smiles
of my friends.
In their company, maybe, I can breathe
and convince myself to start again.
Maybe I could start again.
A yearning for what was stops me building a life for the future.
Imprisoned by nostalgia but at what cost?
Right in front of me all along was a freedom from feeling so forsaken.
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3. |
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I take no comfort in false truths.
We are all rabbits caught in the snare.
I will cut these ties from my wrists and
take a stand against all I detest.
Against all, I attest.
Elected to speak for all by a broken system.
Your words will never be mine.
Western doctrine with no basis in reality.
Waging unjust war to toe the party line.
In this life you reap what you sow and soon begins a hell you
have never known. This mire of your making,
the depths of your deceit, carved the cesspool in which you'll drown.
Your words will never be mine.
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4. |
Interlude
02:55
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5. |
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Slavery by any other name. A complex deceit to target the poor.
The un-wanted, the un-needed: impoverished and hopeless, imprisoned
futures denied.
Human life as a commodity. The more caged the more money made.
Privatised denial of freedom driven by profit.
Liberties and rights auctioned away.
A failure on all fronts, a perpetual mistake.
This is not about the drugs or keeping people safe.
This is nothing but masked racism. Total eradication of the underclass.
The sick and afflicted judged as criminals and society's extra people
swept away.
No longer human being. Just a human resource.
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6. |
Entombed By Existence
03:40
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Predictability and stability. A pattern copied daily.
Ensnared by rituals beyond reason.
Entombed by this mundane existence.
Playing the game of a world I never asked for.
Oppressed and kept in my place. With no way to break out of the system
created by this corrupt, pathetic human race.
Clock in and fill the coffers of those you'll never meet
just to afford warmth and to eat.
Spending petty change on ephemeral experience
to take your mind of the paralysing numbness.
Born into slavery. Lies upon lies.
The will to question crushed with reckless force.
There are always those worse off though:
maybe I am just fucking bored.
Entombed by existence.
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In Tongues Glasgow, UK
A gradual realisation of all colour drained from living.
intonguesghc@gmail.com
Atonement Records.
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