1. |
Impregnable
03:31
|
|||
|
Ever so poignant,
the will to keep it all together.
So many days it just seems easier
to numb the pain,
to let a smokescreen blot out the ambiguous.
No point in vacillation,
it's do or die.
When all is said and done the path lies firm within.
Everyday monsters
can paralyse the bigger picture.
Insipid, humdrum repeat machine –
weak bonds compel lip-service,
inherent verity dead unstated.
No point in vacillation,
it's do or die.
When all is said and done the path lies firm within.
Numbering endless days
the well wherein confusion springs eternal;
elusive lines ensconce the great unknown.
What lurks inside the den
awaits to ambush the multitude.
Embrace the chains to turn the tide.
No point in vacillation,
it's do or die.
When all is said and done the path lies firm within.
|
||||
2. |
Temporal Curve
04:07
|
|||
|
Inane denials,
hurried stares,
are worth a thousand words -
a pregnant silence built for the kill
drowning in briny deep reserve.
Forsaken preacher,
chemical bible brandished in the streets -
hack at the arm to heal the scratched thumb -
self-righteous fashion statement.
I dare you to continue...
...(trial breeds regret)...
Death knells will equalize,
one final breath bears nothingness.
Revering specks of light is simpler for the blind.
I dare you to continue...
...(trial breeds regret)...
|
||||
3. |
Road to Perdition
04:14
|
|||
|
Surge forward turbid vapours
real or inferred,
with distilled potency to flush
the mirror of the mind,
the breaches best passed over.
From nowhere to infinity,
the seven seas of consummate proclivity.
Under a thousand everlasting blazing crimson suns,
the scent of burning bridges will help me on my way.
The mask falls away,
the curtain raised on a crude display of tunnel vision and a fall from grace …
One man’s an island,
wired taut,
ready to strike with no remorse.
The ghosts of reasons past
can’t reconstruct what one instant shatters.
From nowhere to infinity,
the seven seas of consummate proclivity.
Under a thousand everlasting blazing crimson suns,
the scent of burning bridges will help me on my way.
“It must be malice aforethought,
the voices never lie...
...voices will never die...”
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Pathetic figure strapped in white:
a weary-eyed distracted sight,
phantom thoughts keep racing through a harangued mind.
Cyclic patterns reiterated
ever deeper,
paralysing, ray-less, infinite abyss.
‘Welcome back old friend, it’s been a while!
Our symbiosis
well-loved poison pill delight.
You know that idle hands are always fertile ground,
barren fields straddled,
lost without their shields.
Here we go again…
prancing round in darker circles thickening with every breath exhaled.”
For every action a reaction.
Weighing countermeasures, counting dreaded possibilities.
Pathetic figure strapped in white:
ashen, wasted,
now a coiled-up fist alert to strike.
“Between these rubber walls I stand...
focused.
Between these rubber walls I defy.
This is where we part ways.”
For every action a reaction.
Weighing countermeasures, counting dreaded possibilities
into the depths I know.
|
||||
5. |
Make the Scene
03:32
|
|||
|
Dispassionate,
yet chained to the spot -
unshakeable preoccupation.
The smoke of needful things that subliminal fever brings,
so inscrutable.
Step one forward, two behind
by destiny or own design?
Unyielding fortitude must chaperone this endless wait.
Greener pastures
belie bleak bottom-lines.
Adrift in the abyss of analogy.
Step one forward, two behind
by destiny or own design?
Unyielding fortitude must chaperone this endless wait.
|
||||
6. |
Endgame
03:11
|
|||
|
A welling roar of thunder,
flashes of fear like screaming freight trains down the spine,
every fleck of dust is magnified a hundredfold.
The elements have now aligned,
my days of grace as good as gone...
… here come the shadows, closing in,
this is one war I'll never win.
Beguiling disavowals just won't cut it now,
my turn is up.
Every speck of light much brighter just before its dwindling glow.
The elements have now aligned,
my days of grace are dead and gone...
… here come the shadows, closing in,
this is one war I'll never win.
Beguiling disavowals just won't cut it now,
my turn is up.
The elements have now aligned,
my days of grace are dead and gone...
Rended limb from limb,
a random figurehead.
Rended limb from limb,
discarded marionette.
|
||||
7. |
Promised Land
04:47
|
|||
|
The siren song of pastures new
leaves me cold to the ties of distant pasts.
The siren song of pastures new,
instigator of this spiralling decline.
The heart is yearning to be free,
from the chains of this private apocalypse.
The mind is struggling to hold on,
equivocating doubt and reason.
Fear,
nurture,
conspire to turn light into darkness,
assembly-lined barrage of excuses seal this grave of mediocrity.
The siren song of pastures new
leaves me cold to the ties of distant pasts.
The siren song of pastures new,
instigator of this spiralling decline.
Reject the alarmist within,
shed this misanthropic skin.
Audacious,
emphatic,
escape this corporate prison,
it's not unthinkable.
Things don’t have to be so complicated.
Spread my wings,
take me where the wind blows.
Siren song of pastures new...
instigator of this spiralling decline.
|
||||
8. |
Killing Floor
04:03
|
|||
|
Slick...
a panther on the prowl again,
flying on anticipation.
All preparations complete,
the ritual reaching its peak,
a fun-ride to condemnation.
Sublime...
butterflies in the rotting guts
of a seasoned lover.
All preparations complete,
the ritual reaching its peak,
tied down, prostrate to the whims of the Dark Passenger.
Stunned faces all merge into one.
...(no point in trying to make sense of it)...
Behold the final statement,
connection-domination.
Timor mortis conturbat me -
tanta stultitia mortalium est.
One more secret to keep
amid the slides of remembrance.
Biding till the hunger returns...
Stunned faces all merge into one.
...(no point in trying to make sense of it)...
Behold the final statement,
connection-domination.
|
||||
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