Cut The Labels

Stop trying to make out that group one is better than two.
Every side is human so we are all guilty too.

Lying won’t change the facts that we are a species of death.
Locusts and plagues have nothing on us.
Collectively use all that we can touch.
No thought in our heads for if it’s too much.
The answer is yes and we’re all aware.
Easier to ignore and out a window stare.
Cause facing the facts that we are all just the same.
Well that hurts our arrogant, intelligent brain.

I’m telling you this so you might just see,
That all of our prejudice does not have to be.
But sad to say that these words will get used.
Sides will be formed and opinions issued.
All that it means is you are missing the point.
Too busy wanting to tear meat at the joint.
Chew up those who have a diffetent view.
Want to see the root cause the truth is it is coming from you.

Stop trying to make out that group one is better than two.
Every side is human so we are all guilty too.

This trail is not yet set into stone.
Let go; forgive, forget and then we might grow.
Not dwell in the lagoon shrouded in smoke.
Bored of the same failure on which we continue to choke.

Present Descent

Failure to comprehend your own fucking language.
Might as well steal and lazily languish.
But leaving you alone,
Might bring about oblivion.

Cause you’re blind like a selfish soul who won’t admit,
That every view they have is twisted and violent.
And still you preach the words…
Stop madness we urge.
But our voices are forgotten…
Plus, everyone present is descended and rotten.

Insert here and then inject all of this sadness.
No truth can you speak for it is just callous.
So sever all the ties,
Before the rising tides.

Cause you’re blind like a selfish soul who won’t admit,
That every view they have is twisted and violent.
And still you preach the words…
Stop madness we urge.
But our voices are forgotten…
Plus, everyone present is descended and rotten.

Rap the tomes in false prayers that you offer.
Squandered hope with promises to the coffer.
Its why I want you gone,
Until our new path is won.

Cause you’re blind like a selfish soul who won’t admit,
That every view they have is twisted and violent.
And still you preach the words…
Stop madness we urge.
But our voices are forgotten…
Plus, everyone present is descended and rotten.

Illusion Throne

You’re not a few you’re so many,
Twist words to buy integrity.
Find a cause, pin it to your heart.
Forgot about the truth telling part.
Alternate, you made it a goal.
Sick of hearing this infection though.
Your definitions are just lies.
The rest of us are sick of the cries.

Warped and jaded;
Life that’s denigrated.
Picked and alone.
Sat upon an illusion throne.

An infection that is rotted through.
It is your state that brought it to,
The masses upon these distant shores.
What a false collection of clause.
Fracture but try to hide.
Nothing good does dwell inside.
Fixated on making an incision.
Nationality of forcing a skewed vision.

Warped and jaded;
Life that’s denigrated.
Picked and alone.
Sat upon an illusion throne.

And will you ever stop your subsuming?
Cause these staged facts are so bemusing.
With little effort added to a pack of lies.
You built this up to further your rise.
Lent all hands to fuel paranoia.
The rest of us are sick of you as employer.
Hand prepared for killing blow.
Shut your mouths and let us go!

Warped and jaded;
Life is denigrated.
Picked and alone.
Sat upon an illusion throne.

Notched

From this dirge I bring the clarrion call.
Pack these bodies right into the hall.
Writhe and scream upon every note.
Before too long their forms will bloat.

It sounds like murder except its sweet.
Upon these solid walls you do beat.
With a hand in ice and a foot in gold.
Can you work out which will make you fold?

Time after time I split the puzzle.
Lie after lie I made this struggle.
Notch in the back of life I can’t juggle.
So bring down the rafters,
I’m not letting go.

Peck at the eyes that rotted through,
All while exclaiming: who knew?
Sounds so fake it might change the gleam.
Bring out the masters of what is most obscene.

Jack-in-the-box is not for you.
Slip the knife in during the stew.
Between the ribs does the steel go.
Soon comes the gasp from a forced horror show.

Time after time I split the puzzle.
Lie after lie I made this struggle.
Notch in the back of life I can’t juggle.
So bring down the rafters,
I’m not letting go.

But that does not mean we will take this turn.
Lines in the sand…
Won’t stop.
What refuses to end…
The crop.

Instead you will be inserted, into burn to be blurted.
Soggy soul in a clouded room,
Pull out the scalpel and meet doom,
Yeah, yeah!

Time after time I split the puzzle.
Lie after lie I made this struggle.
Notch in the back of life I can’t juggle.
So bring down the rafters,
I’m not letting go.

Error State

Waiting for the fog to clear.
This annoyance is so near.
Can’t bring myself to look.
My fate has been carved by hook.
Words engraved into my wall.
They haunt me and taunt my fall.
I need to break free of my curse.
Before I end up in the back of a hearse.
Call me morbid but its true.
Terror runs right the way through.

Why is it not a dream?
Error state,
I can’t seem to scream.
Protocol late.
Set me free of obscene.

Run the cable into my skin.
Cannot stop my wide grin.
Pick apart my mind twisted.
Into what have I enlisted?
No reason for the smile.
I just know it’s been awhile.
Cut the cord so I can slide.
No cloud upon which I can glide.
Imprisonment in my head.
Tortured soul to which I’m wed.

Why is it not a dream?
Error state,
I can’t seem to scream.
Protocol late.
Set me free of obscene.

What is left is barely me.
This brutality won’t let me be.
More synthetic than I wish to admit.
These pieces don’t really fit.
Cleaved to parts and strung out.
All I wish to do is shout.
Torn and patched back up again.
Pain is forever at a ten.
Kill the power and let me go.
Cannot take this madness though.

Split The Bones

Cycle of hate.
To perpetuate is not fate.

Spit the bones out from your teeth.
Harboured pain that needs to cease.

Decroum has been thrown to the wolves.
All that remains are the skins of fools.
Hand me down an empty tome.
Carve the eyes so far from home;
With a twisted metal rusted heart.
You have no glory to make you smart.
Just a rotten open festering hole.
Hand outstretched pleading for control.

Cycle of hate.
To perpetuate is not fate.

Spit the bones out from your teeth.
Harboured pain that needs to cease.

Ruptures down a party line.
No more words lead to fine.
Gouged out victim on a call.
Erected around innocence a wall.
Proper solution there is no key.
What remains should simply not be.
Filter through every particle of fog.
This whole existence is bathed in slog.

Cycle of hate.
To perpetuate is not fate.

Spit the bones out from your teeth.
Harboured pain that needs to cease.

Stitch shut the eyes of heretic.
Withered down to just a split.
Marry doom to lights decay.
Perforate until it all goes away.
Iodine will be injected in.
New discourse ripples skin.
Replace hope with dismay.
Wish it all would just go away.

Cycle of hate.
To perpetuate is not fate.

Spit the bones out from your teeth.
Harboured pain that needs to cease.

Imitation Of Maturity

Childish with your world view.
So much junk do you spew.
Obsessed with being right.
Far too eager to pick a fight.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Just leave the past where it does lay.
Digging it up does nothing of use,
And it might just become a noose.
Tighten until all you do is choke.
All while punishing normal folk.

Adolescent and stubborn too.
Pity you won’t let it go.
Pouring over every detail.
Desperate for an excuse to declare fail.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Just leave the past where it does lay.
Digging it up does nothing of use,
And it might just become a noose.
Tighten until all you do is choke.
All while punishing normal folk.

Adult in the vaguest definition.
Departed so we’re under suspicion.
What a strange way to exist.
Spending every moment miffed.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Just leave the past where it does lay.
Digging it up does nothing of use,
And it might just become a noose.
Tighten until all you do is choke.
All while punishing normal folk.

Is that a legacy worth giving?
Think you should do some thinking.
Yet I know you won’t even try.
Too busy attempting to stem supply.

If it’s too fatal and flawed,
Why are you even bothered?
Maybe it’s cause your words are a lie.
Saddened by this but goodbye.

Blind With Sight

Excuses just to play with lives.
In my opinion it is quite contrived.
Another story with no proof.
Starting to think this is a spoof.
Manufactured outrage for some glory.
OK, fair enough continue you’re allegory.

Just don’t come up to us,
When you are falling at the rush.
See your halls fill up with souls.
Once everything is out of control.

Spout some words to reach a plain.
All while breeding what you should contain.
Politics with peoples health.
Such things should be on a shelf.
But hey that is up to you.
Ignore the experts if you want to.

Just don’t come up to us,
When you are falling at the rush.
See your halls fill up with souls.
Once everything is out of control.

Then what will you do when you’re all infected?
This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t neglected.
Based your statements on pure jealousy.
How brainless and careless could you be?
On a scale of one to fifty.
I’d say you’re at a hundred truly.
So shortsighted and pathetic.
Obvious that it’s a staged rhetoric.
All because you feel grieved.
Pull your heads out the sand bank then it might be eased.

Just don’t come up to us,
When you are falling at the rush.
See your halls fill up with souls.
Once everything is so far out of control.

Occupation Is Angry

The blur is just a part of the bite.
Pictures are rendering me in spite.
Not a view I ever wished to hold.
Too bad, too late you were not good or bold.

Practice words and see if they fit.
Five, four, A, B, C; I’m sick of it.
Break these chains; here I come.
Blind, deaf, called stupid and dumb.

Professional haters, you are but a disease.
Spouting and disastrous, you do as you please.

Picture truth then glue the lie.
Make all the innocent run and cry.
Finger points cause why not prevail.
Thread through the needle to tip the scale.

Venture deep to dig up crows.
Sit them along the wall in rows.
Damning are the stares they give.
With those looks you force me to live.

Professional haters, you are but a disease.
Spouting and disastrous, you do as you please.

But why are you always being this way?
I don’t understand why you love to pick on me.
DId I do something that I don’t recall?
Make you ask: what gives him the gall?
Haven’t a clue but I would like to know.
Give me something before the snow.
It’s not that hard I wouldn’t think.
There has to be a reason you push me to the brink.
Speak it now and let it be known.
I’ll stand here and be silent as stone.
Just tell me please I beg of you.
Why is it that you hold this view?

You want to hear why?
I simply do not like you guy.
Opinions on every little thing.
And no solutions do you ever bring.

Preach and speak oh so sweet.
Makes me want to chew concrete.
I see the hurt right in your eyes.
Yeah that’s right, it is you I despise.

Professional haters, you are but a disease.
Spouting and disastrous, you do as you please.

Where Do I Belong?

Where in the heavens do I fit with the plan?
Feels like I’ve drifted across every single span.
It’s cold, dark and every noise puts me on edge.
If this goes on any longer I’m not sure I’ll still have a grip on this ledge.

So give me guidance and maybe some spurring.
Cause after this long it feels like I’m yearning,
To let go and see where I fall down to the land below.
Some say it’s wrong but how is it that they can know?
None have ventured from the walls of this kingdom great.
They view stepping from beyond these walls as a mistake.
It’s why I’m asking for just a little of your time.
Otherwise I may just push off at the next chime.

Where in the heavens do I fit with the plan?
(Fit with the plan)
Feels like I’ve drifted across every single span.
(Every single span)
It’s cold, dark and every noise puts me on edge.
(Puts me on edge)
If this goes on any longer I’m not sure I’ll still have a grip on this ledge.

Fashion a convergence between above and below.
If that is too much than you might as well say so.
But I don’t think that what I’m asking is above and beyond.
If it was then would I still be grasping onto this frond?
You might say yes but I need it explained.
For so many times my caution has been blamed.
Seen me labelled as the demon in furs.
And right now I’m sick of when this occurs.

Where in the heavens do I fit with the plan?
(Fit with the plan)
Feels like I’ve drifted across every single span.
(Every single span)
It’s cold, dark and every noise puts me on edge.
(Puts me on edge)
If this goes on any longer I’m not sure I’ll still have a grip on this ledge.