1. |
Our Lives in Braille
02:29
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You hold the flag for a shield, deafened by the sound of the marching line. Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for no purpose greater than uplifting a flag? Are you ready to pull the trigger and paint the sand with a life for reasons you don't even understand?
If you saw your bullet pierce the human skull, would your answers change?
We're taking progress back from you.
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2. |
Polar
02:50
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Another pill will put me to sleep. And in the land where we're free to decide between off-white and cream to paint the walls of our lives, nobody seems even to mind that he or she has been force-fed these pills. Democracy remains a myth.
Our nation lives in a circle
where left becomes right around a bend.
And whereas each of us has a voice,
our cries fall silent, mute for lack of a receiver.
When freedom means "one or another", we have fallen because opposites are reflections in a circle, and left is right is left is right is not worth the time it takes to choose between two identical shades. The tree will fall and no one will hear.
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3. |
Scarlet and Jade
04:15
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The roads that angels fear to tread are paved for creatures far worse than fools, and I would trust a fool a thousand times before I'd suffer the crimes of those whose feet fare where angels all have fled.
For every MBNA to grace the world with its vision, there are twenty thousand victims of the American dollar. For every Dupont, there's another Messiah for the herd to empower, and when He exacts his vengeance, you will know that He is the Lord.
It's comforting to believe that the master means well for those who worship, but there's no sleep for the slave while every breath promotes another dollar on a cross.
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4. |
Archaic
05:41
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But perhaps the branch will snap and gravity will reconsider its role as aggressor in favour of the more peaceful part of the comforting weight. All lies in the branch and what reason has it to comply?
The sun has set on the idea that humanity's in control of its own nature, but what sun sets sincerely before being allowed to rise? Like a domino, each nation fell. Like a wounded bird, every passionate mind was broken by reflex, wings snapped without thought.
But what when it breaks?
No noose or bonfire can be enough because every rope and every match is identical, and change is on our side.
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5. |
Red Admiral
03:43
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And I smile as my eyes meet the horizon.
The sun, only just risen, has vanished beneath the skyline.
The sky wraps around clouds, devouring oceans and mountains, lakes and plateaus,
a cerulean blanket to cover a mother's corpse.
Imagine the sound of twelve billion hearts beating at once the world over, pounding through the earth and the sea. Twelve billion mouths will need feeding, but how?
Another day and a veil of blue invades every line of sight.
A sky once admired has collapsed under its own weight.
The beauty which once inspired hope has smothered the hopeful and drowned the beautiful.
What for earth cares the sky when she lives above all?
Hoard, overproduce, and under-distribute. We must guarantee cultural collapse and, to that end, it's important that the economy supersede well-being. We need to produce more to starve poverty and to feed the poor, but that means an increase for the wealthy as well so that we all know who's who. Nevermind that an increase in food always results in an increase in population. We suffer from the blessing of human exemption.
The more we lie to ourselves, the more we fade. Our global lack of trust we must betray. Our cultural vision demands a change and all we've thought to do is to sit and to wait.
They all will stress "economy". Perhaps that isn't what we need.
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6. |
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When you allow it, where does your imagination seek solace? Are the ideas in dreams no more than colours in your head, despite their appeal?
If we listen when our culture speaks,
our ears condone the differences
between the shit it's harvesting
and everything ideals bespeak.
There's no excuse for the self-instilled misery by which we are so plagued, but shoveling our dirt elsewhere has seen the birth of a mountain whose reach exceeds that of Babel.
Our culture lives only for the present. We try, but we forget balance. And more importantly, we ignore our dreams, relics of an idyllic world, relics of a place long abandoned by civilized touch. If ever we fall from grace, stagnation will wield the knife that clips our wings.
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A Petal Fallen Newark, Delaware
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