1. |
Black Alder Sacristy
07:09
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In the shade of budding limbs
Ancient pillars clad in bark, form this sacristy
Fingers borrowed to form the arrow’s shaft
To launch defiantly at a dying sun
Serpentine, crystalline, path of the borer.
A headdress of pincers, shroud of larvae and compound eyes
Cavernous, cancerous, to multiply without end.
A pendant of tumors, rings of irradiated glass.
A cocoon must be spun, to shed this earthly form.
Reborn, not with wings to fly, but with claws to burrow
Within ground water streams I will be nourished.
Discharging corruption into the very core of this Earth.
It is here I will fester.
A blight on all who have wrought this contemptuous order
Their forgotten legacies
Will be the egg in which I plant my seed
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2. |
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To be a bearer of authentic truth
We swear allegiance to total detachment
In bitter defiance, we lay claim to each deserted expanse
Shields rattle in warning, as if anyone would....
Sit on this fool’s throne
To gaze only inward, is to be forever alone
Yet we have sworn allegiance
To tread upon fertile ground
Is to sacrifice authenticity
Born into this abortive dredge of the soul
An infinite excavation of one's own grave
Any thirst for the rains seems hollow, a self-betrayal
Verity lies only beneath these desert sands
Honor is the last taste of marrow from bones long picked clean
Transcendence hiding deep in the cracks of this parched soil
Wielding the spear of Narcissus
Clinging to deluded supremacy
To tread upon fertile ground
Is to sacrifice authenticity
The lakes reflection a grotesque mirage
Donning a wreath of dead daffodils
Pollen rancid and reeking of waste
To tread upon fertile ground
Is to sacrifice authenticity
In this no penance is offered, just spite and rage
Yet show me the one with the swollen tongue, so I may cut it free
Bereft in all claim to piousness, yet I will preach
To a flock of those soon to flee, or die in disgrace
In this no penance is offered, all projections deceased
Yet show me the one with the swollen tongue, so I may cut it free
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3. |
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A brief sense of purpose to be drowned in abstraction
Inculcation through blood
As ideology dissolves in the dullest illumination
An archetype of grief
Synapses chafe and callous from running in circles.
The staticy hiss of self-projection
A feedback loop of spoon-fed identity
The crooked gouging of a charlatan's epitaph
A vast expanse of concrete and mud, painted in gold and stinking of shit
The swamp of the ego
The alter of futility and human extinction
No tail left to swallow
A philosopher's rant and the screeching of jackals
Half trick and lure, half vain expression
An apothecary for half-wits and mummers
A threadbare stage constructed of one's own feathers
Synapses chafe and callous from running in circles.
The staticy hiss of self-projection
A feedback loop of spoon-fed identity
The crooked gouging of a charlatan's epitaph
So let us chant these words as if they were our own
As we struggle to chisel our effigy into pillars of ash
So let us huff the fumes of methane and sulfur
As we remind ourselves that we all "did our best"
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4. |
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Seed scatterer be among us
Bury thy hands deep into the soil
Of Plague, of carrion
Within decay, you will find a womb
Harness this focus inward
Within these tangled roots you'll find a woven passage to the stars
Gatekeeper at the citadel
Reveal to us the unbinding inscription
Harness the potential in these tired bones
Guide us through the deconstruction of matter
The seven sisters have assembled a refuge
Above these kingdoms of rust
Seven shrines hold the key to the gateway
Seven fragments lost to the passage of time...await their reunion
To Merope a bee must be fed
Sterope turned to face the sun
From Celaeno, a wolf must be bred
Maia must take her spot on the throne
To Electra - a locust in amber
To Taygete - a noose
To Alcyone - a prism, through the first light after the storm must be shone.
Seed scatterer be among us
Bury thy hands deep into the soil
Of Plague, of carrion
Within decay, you will find a womb
Wash away all flawed philosophies
To be set adrift in the flow of time
Embrace the end to all tangible form
Enigmatic in intent and in nature
The seven sisters have assembled a refuge
Above these kingdoms of rust
Seven shrines hold the key to the gateway
Seven fragments lost to the passage of time...await their reunion
Harness this focus inward
Within these tangled roots you'll find a woven passage to the stars
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5. |
Apex and Eschaton
06:42
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Through the fortress of evighet
Spectral whispers of lifetimes to come
Hallucinations of centuries past
As if there would be perspective to gain
Empty corridors, tarnished brass
An epilogue of enduring monotony
A tinge of a dream forgotten or imagined
Wisdom like shattered bones in a concrete cast
Any hint of vindication
Crushed beneath my feet
Any absolution, any second chance
The taste of blood on the lips of a saboteur
Recite
The invocation of the eschaton
Undermine the will of the Bethlehemites and neophytes
The fallacy in man must be undone.
Benight
Spirituality and the cozened ranks
Undermine the will of the Bethlehemites and neophytes
The fallacy in man must be undone.
The shoulders of the complacent
Will bear the weight of consequence
Forever appeasing the false.
The bastard Svengali
The cinder block tied around the neck
Forever acclimating to lower depths
The shoulders of the complacent
Will bear the weight of consequence
Forever appeasing the false.
The bastard Svengali
The cinder block tied around the neck
Forever acclimating to lower depths
Recite
The invocation of the eschaton
Undermine the will of the Bethlehemites and neophytes
The fallacy in man must be undone.
Benight
Spirituality and the cozened ranks
Undermine the will of the Bethlehemites and neophytes
The fallacy in man must be undone.
There can be comfort in these trenches
As long as the stacking corpses are not your own
Hallucinations of centuries past
As if there would be perspective to gain
Empty corridors, tarnished brass
An epilogue of enduring monotony
A tinge of a dream forgotten or imagined
Wisdom like shattered bones in a concrete cast
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6. |
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It seems I've trudged a million miles...
Yet I have not glimpsed the swirling aurora
The echo of dawn cackles in its passing
But the words of redemption it has yet to speak.
I am now one with the gleaming ice of the falls
That once flowed pure and endless, now in stasis and slumber
Fingers long frozen creek in the howling wind
And burn like the pyre, forever looming yet out of reach
Endlessly downward I am beckoned
What once was snow now a staircase of bronze and obsidian
Each step now to the rhythm of a distant chant
No shelter will be granted here...
Oh he who with every word is maligned, let me be your scepter
Oh he with the hive of dirt, let me be your swarm
Oh he who mocks the righteous, let me be your tongue
Oh he who embodies the void, let me be your form
Oh he who is drowned in anger, let me be the flood
Oh he who brings rot to the mire, let me be the mud
Oh he who defiles the holy, let me be your piss
Oh he with a legion a snakes, let me be your hiss
In metamorphosis, they kneel
Chest sunken and spines protruding
Teeth rotted, stained with blood, and clogged with sinew
Clawed hands gouge grooves into the cobblestone floors of the pit
Chanting mouths agape towards a sky unseen and forgotten
Awash in flowing ribbons of iridescence
Anointed in the oily cloak of the acolyte
Desert mind parched with shame and obsession
Drink deep this tide of deliverance
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