Mame is me; The game is in emulating everything seen; Swapping keys, Shame and hatred; Ethereally; Seeking peace; 'scaping to the reeking happy hollow of a tree.
The wheels of progress stand idle; Men stand idly by while smiling; Politicians planning kingships while Kings devising the downfall of the talking; My wheels fly dragging the ground behind them; Idle hands will be chopped off desires; Deny this and fate is brought to the light while dying; Crying relatives will not rebut the sounds of the choir; Desires are heard, disregarded and bound to the sire;
I wanted to fly, But my wings were vanished. Last night I saw lightning in the sky. The desert was crying. The light are whispered - Silence is an amazing art ! Silence is an amazing art !
In defiance, with pious hands; To work like the common man; but with plans more defiant; Losers to immolate in self-defense; Slingshots no longer topple the Giant; Fire deep inside her wished to deny it;
Innocence pulled, an unending silence. Finally quiet, the screaming of demons cleavers, My life is a lie, to be revered as a guise pious. The unjust rise of the unique triad, defiant.
Black music, White music. Who cares as long as you can dance to it. Oriental tuning and flag burning. Who cares as long as our country tramples forward. Toward a new world. One without music. Who cares that musicians are now electronics technicians? Who even cares about inflection, or inner reflection? Or if the power chord is in tune anymore. Who even cares for the whore music? Not me anymore. I said that but afterwards we were forced, To ward off our witness, an antithetical image was explored. With an explosion of force we took off. Eichmann Quart.