1. |
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[Pt.1 Blind Conformity]
An infinite submission to the lives we've been told to lead,
the dreams we've been forced to dream, has undeniably raped our
sense of purpose, or rather has brainwashed us all to believe that we
even have a purpose and will uphold that very purpose
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2. |
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And the all seeing paradigm
Of the millions of "truths"
We've all been forced to swallow
Without even as much as a question .
It folds and molds time,
and we the cowardice manifestation;
Accept, Consume, Resume
Our paradox of being is unforgivable.
[Pt.2 Ignorance]
Figures of earth and clay marveling upon the rusted significance of a tyrant
Basking in the limitless "beauty" of their divine disregard for this dimension's desirable cosmopolis.
[Pt.3 Collisions of Our Caste System]
The multiple collisions of structural supremacy assist the complete withdrawal of intellectual freedom.
It does not fucking exist
Freedom will never fucking exist
[Pt.4 Collapse-Realization]
The collapse of our dimensional arrogance draws near
Cosmic rubble and waste infecting a beautiful terrain
Fermenting atomic perfection plagued by a sculptured
viral nuisance. Fragmented constituents pave the way to the detachment
of universe and sever all "impeccable" ties to the micro-cosmos.
The flaw of an organized star system, Deprecating the innate beauty of
continuance.
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3. |
HOSTIS HUMANI GENERIS
03:35
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They remain entwined upon the shimmering, rhythmic lands of rich green, potted trees and sculpted grass. Marveling at the efficiency of the mass produced price tags they have systematically placed upon natures riches. Their undoubtedly vital past depressions, birthed within the abysmal ground upon which "civilization" finds its footing. Incarcerated by natural forces, and subconsciously knowing this irrefutable certainty, they seemingly are devoid of humorous expression. Dwindling about the consummate, unmistakably transcendent rifts they've managed to manifest within the dimensions of space and time. And yet basking in their leather, reclining appliances; that could so easily be referred to as their kingdoms of illiteracy, they remain dancing in solitude while the cosmic winds journey through the suburban dreamscapes reflected upon their television screens. Living quarters are managed and provided, envisioned and fabricated in the fashion of Tom's Cabin, while they clutch their self-imposed certainties like tissue to muscle and cartilage. So they walk about their conveniently paved sidewalks, transfixed by the bold-print text imprinted upon their ashen, archetypal brochures in which paragraphs of treacherous realities are contained. Little did the cowardice clones realize their contradicting upheaval of self-imposed purpose and realistic purpose commenced the self-willed creation of the ultimate existential paradox.
In concept this metaphysical creation, this ultimate contradiction of rational being transcends mere ideas and manifests itself to consume and reduce all that is, and simply all that ever was. This immeasurable reduction uplifts all to a higher state of presence, that of annihilation. For it is an untimely God among a world of false ideals and irrational, conceptual demigods that insists upon the creation of itself to swallow and engulf all illusions of being. A cosmic gorge of uncontrollable, uncontaminated nothingness feasting upon the empires of Earth's pestilent, plague barren atmosphere. The cry of its Event Horizon, ever expanding, ever imploding, an absurdity within itself.
The clones gaze at their emptied skyscapes searching for something amidst the nothing they've created, searching for meaning within the emptiness of space and time, reaching, and grasping, and hoping. Their inaudible whimpers and shrieks echo throughout oblivion as their self-imposed apocalyptic visionary reduces them all to infinite zero.
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4. |
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Inconsistent to a beguiling assumption of self-exaltation
Rotting among a barren simulation of consciousness
...And the planet's despair effortlessly rests upon the shoulders of billions
We, the tyrant of our mindless wasteland drudging along with
an idea, simplistic yet grand in it's schismatic nature
Systematically infused and comprised of damned intention
leading to a thoughtless intricate and biased manipulation of reality
Expanding the undying ideal of our distinctive predominance
How ridiculous we have become, bred to believe that we are in control
Yet in actuality we are a mere figment, molding our very existence
Life is nothing short of a subconsciously controlled illusion
Moments askew, tied together with hands in dismay
Our reverence of truth has reformed our being into
The planet's final mistake, indifferent to all suffering and unnecessary hardship
WITH HEARTS DETACHED AND OF ASH, WE SOAR UPON THE WINGS OF INEVITABLE EXTERMINATION
With hatred I present unto you my own sculpture of existence
Unreasonable in my tireless efforts, I will never achieve the impossible
Global realization
We, the tyrant of our mindless wasteland drudging along with
an idea, simplistic yet grand in it's schismatic nature
Systematically infused and comprised of damned intention
leading to a thoughtless intricate and biased manipulation of reality
So this is what we've carelessly accepted, subject to a hollow,
delusional, existence in which we celebrate our obvious and morally absurd
state of benightedness. Meandering throughout "reality" pawns to our
commodified customs. Forever on our knees, with an existence of reliance
upon the endlessly oppressive eidolon. Continuously Consuming, with welcoming
grins fixed upon this certitude of the perpetual misconception.
In Truth...
"EXISTENCE PRECEDES ESSENCE"
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5. |
SHROUD OF INDECENCY
03:03
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Restless amidst the shroud of indecency
a subliminal persuasive oppressor conceals its being
Thoughtlessly pestilent is this foundation
Manifested by the weakness of this populace
Ever growing and consumptive
The ties of adequate commerce
divided as a schism
A void in progression halts liberty
The system "provides" and we abide as drones
We the provisional sculptures abide
Without question we nourish this gluttonous beast
Depriving being of evolutionary expansion
Intelligence to dust. Knowledge forever shunned in the crevice ignorance.
We the people raped and blinded by the sights of our
consumer desires
Bleeding our terrestrial sphere of resources
The harvesters , the providers of the final implosion
When the monotonous hum of war plagues our impotent skyscapes
We work away our lives sluggishly, we work our hands to the bone
Festering in the trash we mechanically actualize
Festering in our creations of nothing with which we feel a sense of satisfaction.
And we continuously carry ourselves along with the winds of governmental
order. The people, the spineless shreds that ascend with this fucking bullshit master plan.
What is it that truly governs our lives? These petty materials that aid our greed?
These fucking meaningless objects that strip our existence of any meaningful "essence"?
Drawn in by the perfect advertisement, The perfect announcement
Where are bits and pieces of false happiness control our day to day investments.
Rendering ourselves the divine voiceless machines.
I simply refuse to be the perfect glutton, I can no longer consider myself a manufactured tool.
GO FUCK YOURSELF
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6. |
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For he certainly failed to acknowledge the monomyth in the pursuit of his aspirations. Likewise he failed to interpret his position upon the stone etchings of time. Soaring atop the wings of autonomy revealed the wisdom of elder aeons, immersed in an ageless clay substratum and enshrouded by a bed of barbed thistles. He tore through the quills sacrificing his hands and serrating the fleshy veins resting across the top of his forearms. Obstacles were a futile, petty excuse for a universal intent. So he ripped and cracked at the ground until his knuckles shattered and his fingers began to fracture. Though it was immediately established that the probability of achievement was essentially non-existent, he remained persuaded by his unconventional yet compelling ideals. He was fastened to a realm wherein lies the well of Mímir (a source of incalculable Knowledge.) And due to this came his moment of finality. He examined his materialized nest of bone, keratin, root and flesh that retained a tone of phosphorescent red. His eyes depressed into the sockets of his cavernous crown while his jaw unhinged and mechanically shifted open, gaping his palette. And from his unveiled esophagus fell a swarm of gray locusts and pulsing maggots, preceding a vomitous storm of dust that engrossed his dried innards. His imperfect form dismantled at the recognizable sight of a celestial tablet that curiously resembled oak sapwood. His last strain of being consisted of his reading: "Now comes the arrogant fool, God of his undoing. Imbecile of his epoch. Ironically mourning the eradication of his vital cosmic architect ."
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