1.Clarity
Without a word uttered
A comparison is drawn.
A distant future, a cluttered past
Amid the stars.
Vague yet persistent,
Thought lacking consistency.
Unwilling victim of farce.
The loudest voices scream uninspired.
Their numbers vast, their spirits strong.
Quiet choices sing against the choir
The majority is almost never wrong...
Never wrong... Ever... Never wrong.
A laughable assertion
That there might be some connection
(smoke-filled halls)
Adorn the walls with mirrors and misdirection,
No common thread,
No ties that bind.
Just grasping at threads and keep in mind.
Historical analysis
They play a separate role,
But one contributes more to the whole!
Like a saucer sep...
Let's separate and shuffle off this conflict.
My armament will suffocate (will suffocate),
And leave you feeling useless.
We are your beginning
And we will be your end.
Affluence permitting, a mutual annihilation.
A laughable assertion
That there might be some connection
(smoke-filled halls)
Adorn the walls with mirrors and misdirection,
Discussion moot
Argument ended
An aggressive mute
Strumbling defendant
Fiction versus fantasy
One fact remains unclear
How you pretend both franchises stand soley on one tier？!
We are your beginning
And we will be your end.
Affluence permitting, a mutual annihilation.
I don't care who shot first
Or for the song and dance you've rehearsed.
(a mutual annihilation)
I don't care who shot first,
Or for the song and dance that you've rehearsed.
The maps are divided
And each are traversed.
Aligment in flux for better or worse.
Is the drain finally swirling or are we swirling the drain？
This drought is relieved with acid rain.
(we are) We are your beginning (and the end)
Affluence permitting a mutual annihilation
2.Drumhead Trial
from the unrelenting beat of a pounding drum
(come anew)
from the seizing breast of a wicked beast
(we survive)
in the hallowed marriage of sound and revolt
(come anew)
to the hollowed, disparaged, shed and molt, overdue!
splintering fingers, gore strewn across each hand
splintering fingers, gore strewn across each hand
pray for a way out of here
pray for a way
no animal in all the kingdom shall ever strike me down
a coward in his finest moment
heavy is the head that wears the crown, c'mon!
be swift and painless, not a glancing blow right to the back of
the head
to the back of the head
be swift and painless, not a glancing blow
pray for a way out of here
pray for a way
a long, slow pull on the briar
ready, aim,
when the fire burns, callusing
topping off the urns, a sound remains
look to the actor in the heavy armor, his metal shakes
listen well to the deafening clamor whimpering makes
look now to the unassuming, unwavering
standing before the heavens, screaming
bring on the storm
bring on the storm, bring on the rain
bring on the jesters and bring on the pain
bring on the storm, bring on the rain
bring on the jesters and bring on the pain
the seed is planted, let the roots reach far and wide, and let
it grow tall
let the rings remain intact on the inside
and though the autumn brings a fall of leaves
let it grow tall
the seed is planted, let the roots reach far and wide, and let
it grow tall
let the rings remain intact on the inside
and though the autumn brings a fall of leaves
let it grow tall
look now to the unassuming, unwavering
standing before the heavens, screaming
3.Tilting Against Windmills
Oh what a brave soul.
He's proud to be straight, but like a host that feeds, bigotry
inebriates.
No one's ever been compromised for being a white, straight male
with two blue eyes.
And thus, a declaration of unwavering pride walks hand in hand
with Jesus, matching every stride.
Pew by pew and row on row, they're taught to revere him.
But when they're taught the wrath of God, they only learn to
fear him.
And fear themselves, and fear they should.
And fear themselves, and fear they will (God is dead).
Fear the vengeance of a changing tide.
Fear the gap in your conscience that's ten miles wide.
Until you've suffered persecution and defied misguided
accusations, you've no right to your pride.
Those that are truly afraid are ashamed of their own urges.
Where sex gets buried under rope and cloth, rhetoric emerges.
Reconcile the truth.
Recognize the true deviants and sing, “Father forgive me for I
have sinned.”
He might not forgive you, but I will.
Repent of your ways and we will forgive you.
There are no exceptions, no red flagged rejections, just open
doors.
For anyone at all, unversed and underwhelmed.
For anyone at all, disarmed and disavowed.
All hail the knight of the verbal incontinence, tilting against
windmills into the night.
Inanimate objects, they do not pose a real threat.
Your objection will surely be noted as a historic account of an
ignorant prick.
If it's a sin against God or you, then fuck him, and fuck you
too..
4.Without Prejudice
Wealth is a sick man's game.
Those who have it and those who hunger for it.
To the victor go the spoils of fame—those who seek it, and those
who abhor it.
Evil is a very real concept, boiling in the bellies of the
graceful.
Toiling in the fortress in their complex, to our employers we
are faithful.
A number arises and there's a spark in the eye, obscuring the
vision, clouding the mind.
“I am the authority on who deserves what.
To continue your prosperity, you've gotta pay a little cut.
We'll be ruthless and cutthroat and get what we deserve.
We'll remove each tooth from each swollen mouth and finger at
the nerve.” When a hand makes a fist, sometimes knuckles crack
and break.
When that fist strikes the ground, the plates will shift, the
Earth will shake. Knuckle bones now exposed—true intention, self
serving goals.
Bank accounts that tell of rape.
The plates will shift, the Earth will shake.
Evil is a very real concept, dancing in the diner to your upset.
Sharing drinks and laughing through their teeth.
Their only success is our defeat.
So drape yourself in the finest velvets, cape, mask, and tights,
and jump from the closest, tallest building and reach new
heights.
Revel in the adoration you acquire. Dive into the altruism you
inspire.
Then sit back and pour a drink, relax cause no one sees the
other half. The same qualities that you despise are the
qualities you personify.
Dig deep and find your buried heart. I know it's in there
somewhere.
Acquisition isn't all there is, and no one's too broken they
can't be repaired. Revisions of histories et al. abound.
It flatters me now. It flatters me now…
”Hey spin that song back, it's my favourite. It flatters me
now.”
5.Yellow Teeth
Passing judgment with haste and laying to waste those who stand
before us and dishonour the faith. A dramatic opinion, but an
opinion
the same. An attempt now to make right, not to enthrall or
defame. An
opinion piece, one after another. Laid fat from feast, one after
another.
A man is nothing more than what others claim he is, so speak
clear and
ill of me and so it will be. The grating sound of my voice. The
yellowing
of my teeth. Speak up. Speak clear. Speak ill of me. I found
myself awake
last night. May the players take their place, repeat their lines
exactly
to my public disgrace. The years exaggerate how horrible it was
to be
stricken silent with no e xplanation for the cause. I can't be
the only one
losing sleep over things I should or shouldn't have done. They
are the
rope around the neck. They are the blade pressed to the wrist.
It might
seem detrimental, but it's meaningless. Left to my own devices,
I am
strange. I'm a liar—entertained. I am no one to be reviled. I am
no one to
be admired. Jumping rope at the end of the street, I am
everyone, and
everyone is me.
6.Plato's Tripartite
I forgot to thank you for the blood you shed, and your
obligatory
contribution to the community. Are you just dense or so fuckin'
inbred
you think that all is forgiven and all is forgotten？ But forgive
them of
nothing, despite their impunity. Oh how the system fails you
completely
when monstrous children get treated so sweetly. The violence is
praised,
the decision cemented (they seem like nice kids). Crimes go
committed,
but never lamented (that doesn't change what they did). That's
when
they lock up an innocent victim. The only thing that's more
broken
than her spirit is the system. They lock up femininity, infected
with the
illusion that choice is free. You made your bed when you were
born
in your bones, so lay back, sweetheart, in a body you only
sometimes
own. Lay back upon cold concrete floors and rest your drunken
soul.
What more could a lady ask for than to be treated like a hole？
Oh how
the system fails you completely when monstrous children get
treated
so sweetly. Standing before you in suit and tie, don't they just
look so
nice？ Well-practiced tears come to their eyes, “I guess their
remorse will
suffice.” That's when they lock up your bones, and femininity
infected
with the illusion that choice is free. Freedom is delicate,
cracking under
abject catastrophe. Stronger than his prison bars are the bars
around
her memory. It's irrelevant, her relation to me. No one is
innocent if they
go free. When we hand raise the beast, and the beast runs wild,
we must
speak of our own involvement in the r ape of a child.
7.A Life Embossed
A breed？ No, a series of breeds.
It's not a single type or a single gloss, but they're singled
out at half the cost. Cast off and cast out and almost lost is
the innocent cry of a life embossed.
A judgment based in human error.
A snap decision made in crippling terror.
A sentence passed down from shaking hands.
Caving and twisting to frightened demands of the disillusioned
masses to slap the wrist of the “lower classes” of life.
It will be no defense, despite the nurturing influence.
The nature's decided, the plan is divine.
If you should feel remorse anywhere inside you throughout the
course of this abomination,
you should feel grateful—grateful to feel anything at all.
You are the heartless.
You are the soulless beast.
You are trained to kill, but unwilling to bear witness.
Maybe you should concentrate on the vicious people and the
alarming rate of murderers and drug dealers with whom you share
no regard for life before you set and ensnare the same victims.
Outlining the qualities by combining varied breeds. Breed
specific legislation falls flat on its only short snout.
A death squad assembled.
Why put up a fight？
The round up resembles a Crystal Night.
In relation to temperament, they pass with an overwhelming
percent (86.4%). The American pit bull v. the American dream.
The task is ours to keep our dogs and children safe. Disregard
the media, the province, or the state.
With a different target every decade or so, you can wait until
they break into your home.
Repeat the lies you've bought and sold and say, “You should look
up the
facts” when you should look up the facts your fuckin' self.
Or you could stand for a dog that's not your own because your
own damn dog is next.
I'm proud of every pit bull, but ashamed of my own country. I
oppose any legislature that should try and stop me (from helping
anyone or anything in need).
I won't stop until they lift these ridiculous bans.
And if a pit bull is a weapon, you'll have to pry them from my
cold, dead hands.
8.Mist
About a gunshot away there's a place that I long to be—tippin'
bottles with me
old cock. When the shit's all said and sorted, I plan to settle
down and stay—one
middle finger to the landlocked. From the first time boatin' o'r
there's not too much
I can recall. I kissed a plastic cod and drank rum till I was
friggered. I decided then
and there that I'd return, even if I had to crawl. Something
outside was broken and
something inside me, triggered. It's a long ride home, but it's
always my destination.
It's a long ride home. If the sun bursts apart at the end of the
world, I don't think
I will give a damn as long as I'm surrounded by friends and
pints in goddamned
Newfoundland. So here's to Newfoundland. I breathed a sigh of
relief the next time
steppin' off the plane. It'd been a long, hard, vapid winter.
Johnny and the boys
were waiting there ready to explain, they weren't there to drive
us, just a welcome
back to the Island. So we taxied to the venue to prepare for the
night to sweep.
Slept in the back room until the India showed up. When we
finally took the stage,
it shifted beneath our feet. We stood on the shoulders of proud
Newfoundlanders.
And I think it bears repeating that no one buckled under. We all
got bit by the cod
that we all kissed. It left an infection in our lips and a
longing in the mist. You're
as deep as the grave, and you're marching to the heartbeat of
the land. Yes, I be a
Newfoundlander B'y. Not by birth, but in m y heart. Yes, I be a
Newfoundlander B'y.
9.Underbite
So how you fuckin' feeling tonight？ We're ( insert name here )
from
unimportant, and I'm about to mimic some image of a rock and
roll
singer I have under lock and key. Without the faintest hint of
irony that
I'm flashing my pearly whites to sustain my mediocrity. So is
everyone
having a good time tonight？ Good, I'm glad (I couldn't actually
care
less). You guys are the best crowd that we've ever seen, seen
with
these old dead eyes. Blind to the stage or even my own lies. So
hey
ho, let's go. Let's start this contemptible “rock” show.
Blinding lights
to hide the hand up our ass in this puppet-sock show. Two sewn
on
eyes, repurposed and made new, torn from an aging suit for a
sense
of deja vu. Thumb underbite. I bite my fucking thumb, and hope
you
catch a thread, and slowly come undone. An illusion seldom
spoken. An
understanding between you and I that the ground that you stand
on
is somehow less than mine. An allusion to a broken home, left on
the
street and chilled to the bone. So hey, we still feeling good？
Now you
comprehend our complex relationship — consumer／consumed. You're
just some stupid kid and I'm a megalomaniac. Here comes that
tortured
artist now to sing of his despair. Shedding defenses for an
honest
creation. Placing yourself in the stocks on the strap. You're
disgracing
your effort by conforming to textbook performance of music to
fill in
the gaps, and it's bullshit. It's bullshit. Be honest, this
can't be what you
wanted, if what you write about means anything to you. Rather
than
pure vanity, people might connect with sincerity. Don't just
pray the next
generation learns from our mistakes. Let's not repackage the
same old
performance. Original content is so much more rewarding. I know
that
it might be quite cliche, but if all the world is in fact a
stage, then this
stage—this here goddamn stage—might just be all the world.
10.Animal Bones
Why do you torture me so？
You sit across the table with both eyes closed.
You speak in myth and fable, and stand unopposed.
The animal bones reveal themselves from deep within your mane.
They reach for ethereal light.
The ancient spears rise from her shoulders and riddle your
frame,
marking the first time it was done right.
And that's not all that haunts me - the death by fire of a child
who waits so patiently. And we are the ones
who set the standard by which we are to be measured.
Measured, measured!
Some things can never walk again cause sometimes a step is all
too vile.
The path of five innocent men who are only capable of walking
one last mile.
If I could live another day over again, I'd choose not to.
The successes and failures of days passed are constant.
The horizon promises days ahead.
If you won't quit, then I won't.
And this I swear to you tonight
upon these former embers
you fanned until they were fire.
We are nothing without the thousands of voices that make the
choir.
Nothing without the thousands of voices that make the choir.
We are, we are, we are still life.
(We are, we are, we are still life)
We are, we are, we are... still life
Begging and pleading, not dying, but bleeding out. (Still life,
still life)
Begging and pleading, not dying, but bleeding out. (Still life,
still life)
Oh, the chemical reaction, the chemical.
Oh, the chemical reaction.
When the walls fell, with arms wide.
11.Skies
Cough, gasp, and sputter, spinning helplessly down toward the
earth.
A loss of control, the sky swallows whole.
Falling down, down. Forever falling down, down, down.
But is it entirely a flightless fall？
No deceptive currents, no rise at all？
Maybe it's too naive to not jump ship when deviating so
drastically from the initial script.
Tremble beneath the weight of inevitability, and all the
casualties therein.
Cower in the shadow of the ever-present sun, witness eclipsing,
eclipsing, eclipsed.
Is it completely void？ Or is the truth in shade？
Are all the facts before us a masquerade？
Suffering no deceit, no selfish lies, we stand in our own crypt
and we mobilize, waking up to blazing heat and the stench of
rancid meat.
Don't have the patience or the time to repeat mistakes. Like
high, hot hauls, through highway tolls with bigger brothers for
hungry trolls.
Each horn sharpened by eye sockets torn, standing on the graves
of the worn. Welcome to the place integrity is born.
Heart in the right place, just missing the mark.
Feigning exception is a shot in the dark.
With no remorse and no regret, is anybody listening yet？
Tremble beneath the weight of inevitability, and all the
casualties therein.
Cower in the shadow of the ever-present sun, witness eclipsing.
Bask in uncertainty.
Strange things can happen when faced with adversity.
Ask and you shall receive, or swing frantic your arms.
Fate is nothing but a nervous belief.
I don't believe the end is in pavement.
I don't believe there's anything beneath.
I don't believe there's death in the basement, no I don't
believe.
Embrace the fall, there is no end.
No ambiguous hypothesis to comprehend.
No bruised and battered egos in descent's entire ethos.
No magnificent creation myth.
No wind to pad the story with.
Only I will never quit, or watch my brothers quit, but I'll
lower down a lifeboat if you're abandoning the ship.
“True sailing's dead,” should have been the first thing said
before the writing
could be written, before the writing could be read.
The wreckage was never found, but the black box was recovered.
The message therein profound.
In our final moments our true names are all discovered.
So let it fall.
Even if it turns out to be futile, at least we couldn't ask for
a sky so clear or a day more beautiful.
They'll never find the wreckage, transcending all human
languages.
Just a promise and a final message： the descent is all there
truly ever is. Stumble beneath the radar,
big holes in each great city is all the evidence I need.
Knowledge often beckons and can lead astray.
Whisper release me, release me, release.
Dive into an endless sea.
No reason to falter
no plan supersedes.
Altering frequencies, but we welcome the change.
Fate is nothing but a nervous disease.
| 
