1. |
Wasps, Wolves,Wormes
00:59
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We never tripped the silent alarm
Wasps like wolves behind that beating door
We never tripped the silent alarm
Wolves like worms bore into our beating heart
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2. |
Hunter Seeker
04:40
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At the trial no one would speak
Vehement silence, porcelain teeth
Eminence rusting, a gavel to sire
With the press donning the sheets
Fettered to dead pan punditry
Herding the snakes with their lanyards afire
The judge with his scythe in hand
Quick with the noose, covet the necks
Smoke dissertations/repititions of methadone whims
In a flax cowl and cloak
Garrote affixed, hustling smoke
Gnashing his fangs of black glass between hymns
Suffocate in the wet tourniquet of his crippling will
Damned to choke on this sentence like razor blade vengeance
All the veins gone constrict, a pine box with the knees shattered still
Blot with powder to cake this disease, but the mask knows
Hunting, seeking
Hoodwink privilege, honor among thieves as the plot grows
Silt and sedition/sifting through whispers in black on black signs
With the monks cutting the pills
Methadrine lust, cruciform thrills
Lager for sale at the naming of names
Yellow press fatten the kill
Zealot shrink wrapped cellophane wills
Red are the hands of malevolent blame
The tracks of this cavalcade
Blood on the hooves, hair in the wheels
Smote revelations of charges unjust
With the curs manning the whips
Lidocaine barbs, benzedrine quips
Grinding the pearls of the truth into dust
Suffocate in the tin iron lung of his crippling whims
Damned to choke on this fusion of lead and collusion
With the truth derelict, a pine box sealed and clawed from within
Blot with powder to cake this disease, but the mask knows
Hunting, seeking
Hoodwink privilege, honor among thieves as the plot grows
Silt and sedition/sifting through whispers in black on black signs
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3. |
Risk, Assessment
03:14
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“Bring me their eyes” cried the mole
Wringing four scheming thumbs
Pondering on deceit
Feasting on insolent tongues
From a platter of bone
Stained as pink as a rose
In a figurine throng
Charcoal grey, phthalo green
Count the dead on an abacus
Heads for the beads
Casting corrugate coffins
In crepe paper tombs it goes
Body, ash, lime, rosary, repeat
Behold the whore of the mountain
Chained in the brothel of time
Cursing his avarice
Tributes of silver and lightning
Sulfur and abhorrent cries
Poison the affluence
“Bury their limbs” cried the mole
Under four distant hills
In the bowels of the beast
Braced with their insolent bones
Insurrection expunged
No adherents to goad
Signing propagand(a) pardons
With cyanide quills
His fish speaker sentinels
Pale in the gills
Freeing atrophied thieves
Of their contraband hands
But the wolves at the altar
See right through the moniker
Behold the whore of the mountain
Chained in the brothel of time
Cursing his avarice/the opulence
Tributes of silver and lightning
Sulfur and abhorrent cries
Poison the (affluence/affluent spies, all fawning)
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4. |
Wombs pt. II
05:28
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This child cannot be unborn
So fall into the knife
And we shall drown in the womb
This child cannot be unborn
Collapse and open these scars
And crawl back into the wound
Embrace this heritor forever
Our prince devours souls beyond our stars
His tongues all burrow in
Our liege envelops suns beyond our dawn
His hands, these wanton roots
Surround the fathers, weave into their eyes
His favor scarce
A thirst beyond the ocean, guile to fall the world
This child cannot be unborn
So fall into the knife
And we shall drown in the womb
Behold the wailing of the light
This child cannot be unborn
Collapse and open these scars
And crawl back into the wound
Embrace this heritor forever
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5. |
Precipice
03:27
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There’s a tide approaching
Far on the seas brooding horizon
And it’s tolling a debt
Born in a gamble a long time come
All in with tokens of fire & steel & horrid ambition
Choking the life out of rock and wind and sky
As you fall
From a cliffside precipice, scrambling, groping
Wondering just when the house called your old debts in
There’s a scream like a mob
Shrill on the waves, red on the breakers
Ready to claw at the rocks you will fall upon
There’s a cold and trying end to fallow
It’s a woeful ending cold & shallow
Upon the edge there gleams a penance and a strike to fallow
Out with the knives
They will cut at tendons taught & hallow
Vivisect as the night grows still
We'll be safe here for now
Deaf to your pleas
They will leave you shaking cold to wallow
We'll be safe here for now
Your penitent cries for nil
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6. |
Gone
01:14
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You will learn to crawl with your wings on fire, gone
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7. |
||||
A black shroud surrounds our mouths & faces, pressing down
We suffocate in a vacuum, in desolation our own design
No luminescence escapes this darkness, this nothing of light and sound
A hangover of wealth and power
We pray not come down
We won’t reach tomorrow
No autumns rising sun
Pale upon the gallows
Our malady unsung
Cursed to cower in the shame of what’s been done
Trembling at the center of the earth
Beneath a banner of greed we’re amassed, jaws grating earth & bone
A war of attrition, a wrath insatiable drowns the world
Don’t look down, it’s all sinking; the ice retreating, wholly undone
We stand trial, our guilt assured
We will suffer the rod to come
We won’t reach tomorrow
No autumns rising sun
Pale upon the gallows
Our malady unsung
Cursed to cower in the shame of what’s been done
Trembling at the center of the earth
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8. |
Beacon
02:20
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I set a blind satellite
A beacon for you
To float above a hull of shadows dead & grey for all time
At 45 Fahrenheit I beckon to you
Waiting for your mind with thoughts of blinding speed to fold time & space
Waiting for your mind with thoughts of blinding speed to fold
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9. |
Sultanate
07:11
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(instrumental)
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10. |
Wombs pt. I
05:01
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They draw ash crosses with jaundiced nails
On the heads of spiders in want of legs
And a red dusk sets as the virgin kneels
Her knives laugh crimson tears; so flows the witch communion to the crowd
As the rivers simmer, the hog, it feeds
At a trough of wasps with ashen wings
As her last brood weeps at the virgins knees
Her axe mocks crimson fears; so flows a fertile seed onto the ground
At the coronation a dead choir sings
Litany’s atonal in discords shrill
To a blaspheme chorus, the clamor builds
A cloud of crimson mist; so drifts the looming fear into the night
In a chain of nurses and priests of smoke
Hear the howls hysteric and lost in cant
Of dust to ashes and ash to dust
The son, the son will come, the son will come upon this rust hued dawn
Search within their white less eyes; when everything is said and done, we’ll learn to miss the comfort of the day on which we knelt
Sulk within their witless lies; the age of poisoned truth is cast and waiting in the womb to crack the dawn
Our wasted hands will not dessert you
Let the scion boil water with bane and breath
We will mend his cradle with branch and thorn
Let the scion boil water with bane and breath
The vultures first, his skin the last
May all lament the footsteps of our path
Hives
Swollen
Vital
Signs
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11. |
||||
This eve the final march counts the hours down
A time for provisions and the coddled young
Your face betrays a panic for the battlefield
Our pulse proclaims a perjury of confidence
Ahead and the heathen heart, a beating drum, a horror indelible
Ahead and the heathen heart, a bleeding sieve, a symbiote insatiable
This eve the strong lads stock the armament
A time for quick fuse, blades, accelerant
This blind machination is breaking down
Our beasts strain ‘neath the weight of this scimitar
Ahead and the heathen heart, a beating drum, a horror insatiable
Ahead and the heathen heart, a bleeding sieve, a symbiote insatiable
Ahead and the heathen heart, a beating drum, a horror indelible
None at the reigns, but the pawns keep coming
Gored on the tusks, under foot, at the wall
Dogs in the sietch, as the ranks keep falling
No one abroad to sound the alarm
Still we fight
Tooth and nail
Spear and sword
Stone and skull
Chasing down
A beautiful death
As the demons gloat
And the night prevails
This heathen heart of ours, drunk on a shade grafted to our souls
Fading, reaching, down
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12. |
Ash Borer
01:20
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13. |
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Are these the famine times?
The cenobites preparing for this melancholy promenade
We waste like starving Kells
Sand and ash and scarab husks are all that’s left within the granary
We draw from arid wells
Pagans mummified the garrison, these husks our shoddy regiment
We flee to gods below
Build a pyre of all the minarets and crawl into the grave
Torch this black throne
Blood to thin the lacquer
Crack this veneer
Prophesy on borrowed time
Chapels of stone
Struck and torn asunder
Wraiths of the renegade houses all loosed for the fall
In the breast of this desolate tomb we will sleep with the stillness returning above
In the breadth of this gathering dark we will breathe in the soot of our deficit
Behold the gods
So we dig, holding tight to their wings
Lo, we make for their desolate sun
How they shovel us, never out, down
Wrapped in 5.9 sextillion tonnes
Are these the famine times?
Our rations naught but millet, mud, and mold, the air is running out
We starve within this hold
The ceiling’s flirting with collapse, our noble dead are piling up
We flee to gods below
Build a pyre of all the minarets and crawl into the tomb
He lashes 7 tails, disturbing algae in a fog
Breathing violet fires from within his feathered lungs
His eyes cannot be counted, though they number less than twelve
The glow within his nest shines a light the darkest black
She heaves a breast of wood and tattered gems
Seven arms to wield the levers and the chords
A leash to tame the hounds upon the stairs below the gate
Her matte dark matter phallus, the undoing of the world
So shines the deep, bless the blind within this cave
In their bliss, the gods will laugh at the peril upon the plains
Plot our escape; build a heaven in this keep
Eons forth, the gods will pass; we’ll reclaim the hells above/+in time
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