1. |
We'll Capture A Kingdom
07:01
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|
Anxious and defensive.
Destroying what we love should never be the answer.
Destroying what we fought for so long seems so inhuman at best.
So now we speak in violent glares and empty threats.
Provoking.
Irritating.
Soaking in doubt (and) despair.
This can’t be right.
Decide (but) I doubt we ever thought to end indifferent.
I hate to kill us watching idle hands assuming control.
Speak. Bleed.
Aim to portray in, of or as fiction (because) in sight, perspective is free.
In a hand… but on the other…
Assuming control is really holding me back from somewhere.
Fight, but let me die.
Godamn.
Insight is free but as far as logic is concerned, it’s not for sale.
Break in emotion, price-less.
“The hardest part is telling someone you love politely to fuck off.”
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2. |
||||
|
So we caught you red-handed, cradled in a sadist conscience.
3 2 1 her countdown to (the)
Break of dawn might offer salvation at the hands of a hero.
Escape by the hands of her savior.
Darkness falls.
run mascara that leave charcoal trails down those rouge red cheeks
Oh God…
The way you dance like violence…
Godamn, it makes me so hot.
Blush and kiss her.
A little harder.
A little faster.
More intense, you fucker.
Self appointed leaders of the expedition.
Self proclaimed as saints and martyrs.
“Who’s at fault?”
Pointing fingers breaking mirrors.
We’re still screaming “off with OUR heads”
*
Glimpse a light and strive to rise.
Difficult.
Shiver colder darker.
It’s been 5 o’clock for days.
9 am for hours.
Still in bed.
Dressed in black.
Dressed in blue.
Dyed in red.
Blush and kiss her.
Fuck her.
G’iver.
Little faster.
More intense you fucker.
More intense.
9 am for hours.
Still in bed.
Still in bed the shadows speak of sweet escape and dance across the ceiling
caught in fading light.
Fading light blind to open eyes.
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3. |
||||
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Hello, can you spare a minute?
I’d like to ask a question.
My ears are burning.
I am hoping for some closure on an issue I find pressing.
Our moods suggest that we are half asleep from boredom.
We are grasping straws and begging for death.
Well, at least I am.
At least I’m well aware we’re over our heads.
Stop, just stop.
So now we’re down like oscillation?
|
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4. |
||||
|
Again, it’s only logical.
We’re sadistic people.
We cry.
We cry and shake our fists.
We cry and scream for blood.
So delightfully content.
The truth hides in our closets.
We know we want this.
We’re safer, in prospect.
We’re influential.
We’re all the rage.
Being remembered and hated is preferred to being forgotten.
We’re hot, we’re famous, we’re all the rage.
Mr. President, we’re on in Boston.
We’re live around the world.
I love my car. I love my mortgage. I love my MSN.
Mr. President, let’s fix that makeup.
We’re live around the world.
TGIF. Get fucked this weekend. I’m so stressed out from work.
The death of thousands can justify our comfort because, after all, we’re happy.
So happy.
“My brother (was) shot today. My house was bombed. I buried my daughter last week.”
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5. |
CoughChokeSing
03:32
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Hard to breathe/swallow/choke.
Cough and limp, stumble, fall.
Dream of fading light and sleep in bitter cold.
Carry on.
Hope to sleep one minute more.
Dread to live one hour more.
This hunger, this headache (comes from) seclusion of the self.
These voices in rubble scream “this place was here. to dust.”
As prey, we bait and bleed our own.
Call out.
Please respond.
*
a vision of endless smoke lifting over a bleak horizon. a thought looses substance as all wounds and everything inside breaks to meet the harsh air. skyscrapers reduced to towering metal breams distorted in a ghastly display, reaching out from mile-high piles of broken concrete as foundation. a single child cries in the distance, never closer. then silence. the silence is enough to break the mind. in the combined hell of all sense, sanity becomes proportional to the given situation… and every given situation is worse then the last. in a post-apocalyptic world screaming has no artistic merit. so we sing.
*
We sing.
We do, we think, we say, we act.
And hope the best is ours.
Outside our scope for reason lies salvation.
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6. |
Haxxor - Server Offline
02:29
|
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|
Drop the pressure salable drama.
Was it good for you?
Treat the sociopath.
Season one… with knives.
So close the set.
A break; let’s burn the script.
Now pay us to improv.
Let’s take if from the top.
Act one, scene one, line one.
Inside her true life,
behind curtains, flood lights, stage props, cue calls,
screams apathy.
She screams “save me”.
Just listen.
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7. |
Eventually Will Die
03:25
|
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12 day insanity arise from 17 minutes of conversation.
I can hear the sirens now.
Fists fight a shadow.
Drown in the self-righteous indecision and the false hope of the shallow.
Defend to the death you heartless advocate
and keep a fire to dance all night in solitude/silence.
Defend and the victor loses everything.
Save your breath.
Die.
Cross this heart out with a knife.
Watch the patterns fade as static speaks in whispered abhorrence.
Save your breath, this conversation is far from over.
Think of the happiest moment of your life.
It’s gone and we have nothing.
Die.
|
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