1. |
Death By Numbers
04:07
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V1
Beaten with a walking stick ripped from a tree kissed twice by lightning
Chosen to reign supreme over Vinland as Don Quixote’s doppelgänger
a fearful act of torture every time the tablet opens
Quite out of proportion with it's relative unimportance
"jouissance" happens in some other theater of cruelty certainly not here
Phantasmagoria of the banal outfitted for nosebleed stadium seating
These are but illusions dancing onstage, immaculate chicanery
The strings and levers are operated by the moving image of Lon Chaney
We're all animated pictures envisioning a sustainable hustle
Caravaggios of the mp3, cheering Ahab pursuit uncorrupted
Trade one albatross for a few pigeons + more attractive vultures
It's a pleasure to be your entertainment in the last days of culture
CH
There were places you wanted to go
But tread ever so lightly here
We urge you paint along
to this death by numbers
V2
Hoist the disappointments up the battlements in place of heraldry
Let yesterdays heroes fall swifter than ergot scythed wheat
in an expanded today we lay claim to progress's basement, half-flooded
When nobody hears this I'd spread vitriol wide on the North-winds
I can admonish from the pulpit and let evolution stand up straight
But more profitable to be complicit and pour the ashes in a communion (cup)
much more compassionate than the last wastrel's prophetic outburst
Just as urgent and noteworthy a pyrrhic victory for content
My shadow will always tower above my tractioned battered ego
But my narcissism will outlive these fair lichens by a landslide documented
My hands are the tools bestowed by better than a euphemism
My standards and taste rendering 99 % of so-called commodities useless
Pageantry of the inquisition's parade marching on your town
Blacker flags funereal dress and the advanced humor of savages
I will speak with authority, all the conspiracies are true.
This is the keystone we've been shaping since recently misspent youth
CH
There were places you wanted to go
But tread ever so lightly here
We urge you paint along
to this death by numbers
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2. |
Barren Orchard
03:31
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The Tillinghast’s tale of a barren orchard
Sunken eaves and mildewed gables
Rotten fruit + empty wombs
Decaying stables a hollow foundation in white Birch
Fitting prelude to a pine home resting
Historical Cemetery 14, a stone hill on Benefit St.
Religious freedom blooming in the field to provide
The wasting to your eldest 1st , a slow confounding
Until she passed and left a silhouette in the vernal earth
Thinner with time, the lines that streak your face
Mercies are Thine to share, a flock of moving shapes
Magic lantern theatre , awestruck amazed
When the rats descend upon your house in droves,
won’t you bring out your dead
We’ll gather around the mound and ingest dirt
This is the cure for the last several trees
As if anointment in stale blood from caved chest could not be enough
Leave me facedown and Jolly-Rogered, we can make it a spectacular showing
She came calling to visit this was our rosy angel of disease
She sits on my chest at night makes it hard to breathe, one by 1
Unsewn seeds, uncanny secretions
She’s gone with the worms, each one turned to pirouette
The barren orchard decides / which fruit will die in the vine
The Tillinghast’s tale of a barren Orchard
Sunken eaves and mildewed gables
Rotten Fruit _+ Empty wombs
Decaying stables a hollow foundation in white Birch
Fitting prelude to a pine home resting
Historical cemetery 14, a stone hill on Benefit St.
Religious freedom blooming in the field to provide
The wasting to your eldest 1st , a slow confounding
Until she passed and left a silhouette in the vernal earth
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3. |
Sphere of Trash
02:46
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CH:
burning bush to cleanse
putrefied, vacuous
The feces in your words
The cesspool of this world
I give this to you
You earned this hell in full
I’m laughing in your grave
Your tears in wine washed away
V1
Buoyed by salt and filth
Blown by ash and dust
Tossed by waves of erotasia
Shrieking little urge
(we) need to feel, validated
A fanatical offering
A platter of special needs
8 billion ingrate asses to feed
Ch
burning bush to cleanse
putrefied, vacuous
The feces in your words
The cesspool of this world
I give this to you
You earned this hell in full
I’m laughing in your grave
Your tears in wine washed away
V2
A sphere of trash, seen from space
A blue and green drop spins on
3rd plot from the sun
Connect the stars to navigate
We’ll rape tomorrow anew
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4. |
Chthonic Youth
04:09
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V I
And now for our big commercial break-
Loving the crater because you crawled from it and it gave a sullen familiarity
Family of dust and dinosaur bones to relate what the future earned
Trade it all in for some smallpox blankets and the comforting touch of nettles and broken glass.
Pick the shards out and name them make a constellation of the porcelain multiverse
And come back home to tell us all about it
We’re waiting with baited stale breath and wondering when your epiphanies will cease to be excruciating
#.2 pencils. Stuck in a cubicle ceiling
These are hits, because what else will make sense in the apocalypse?
CH
Chthonic youth bleeding through
Tenure in salt-mine bathed in crude
Baited blues blackened tooth
Sordid truths ritual abuse
V II
A grave with benefits, make a reservation and cut coupons
Incinerate the rest and live in Steve Jobs’ sexy 4th world utopia, taking tongue out of Adam Smith’s ass when at last appropriate.
Everything will be clean soon.
Clinical and cold and inviting and convivial to all but germs and steel
Let’s dance on the altar to expedite extermination
I’m not espousing negativity, this a carefully crafted contingency plan
And other useless machinations after FEMA deploys magnetic pulse weapons
Very little would be left to save if we reversed tide and polarity at this nanosecond
This island earth, this cesspool Eden
This fallout shelter crowded and reeking of slippery flesh
CH
Chthonic youth bleeding through
Tenure in salt-mine bathed in crude
Baited blues blackened tooth
Sordid truths ritual abuse
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5. |
Small Hours
04:41
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6. |
Roll Over Cerberus
03:27
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7. |
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V I
Your veins stiffen because we are aiming for flawless preservation
Mary shelley overdriven recapitulating cold white flesh
I’m back to Oak Grove, back to Tripp’s funeral home
I’m the laughter against medicine and the icey breeze off the cove
Preponderance of fluids soaking clinical surfaces
Disinfected, cleaned, and powdered for observance
The glitter of putrescence beckons the parlors custodians
Abject undercurrent, arrived in similar immolation
The finest fabrics and oaken containment hand-picked
From a showroom of options deemed affordable by surviving bickerers
They will pick over bones and carrion in a metaphorical sense
Gut your worldly possessions and seek to carve off remaining friends
This is always a caterwaul of avarice, drowning out lamentations
We ride…we ride in style…wrapped in grey, bathed…in lunar light
memorize these grotesque patterns,
tear-stained and mildewed, and praying they change (X2)
V II
The last ride in a station-wagon, regardless or worldly station
A quieted stone garden of unearthly delights beyond Disney
The qulippoth have replaced your loved ones with a plastic sheen
These latex gloves protect from biological waste of all-to-human
We would not want to offend with the odors of the pedestrian taste
We knew him well, or she was an odd sort of outlier
Tell a tale of yesteryear un-darkened by inevitability
This is not a punishment every untold tale is tidied up in the same manner
Insurmountable exit to stage left the drapes roped off like dead cells
His hero is gone and now a stiff’s retinue corrals for comfort
Dusty pink tissue and soft organ in a distant room reminding
A splinter in neural tissue lasting all remaining days
Purple flags with silver crosses a heraldry for lost causes
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8. |
Vinyl Cape Portland, Maine
Post-Rap Doomwave/Nihilist Power Sleaze band from New England featuring Brzowski, C Money Burns and Mo Niklz
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