1. |
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This rite of passage stuck at the threshold
existence at its very best
Subliminal messaging of the dry dirt
meekly pushing up the thirsty strands of grass
holding
until the crack finally tears the ground apart
and the gaping hole fits all the pecking birds
in a shallow grave
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2. |
Insurmountable
06:23
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I don't know about you, but I've been sitting in this room for a while. Trying to decipher the information that's being placed on the walls around me. Some words in foreign languages or perhaps my own. Nonsensical words that keep writing themselves on the walls. In invisible ink.
Where the red fibre grows you'll find me.
As the war in-between intensifies.
As the records fold into themselves
the insurmountable is on the rise.
And the moon never shows in the harbour.
As the grime in-between exemplifies
the indecipherable.
Insurmountable in disguise.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
The plight of the mutes
prevailing.
But I know
what the records won't show.
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3. |
Inner Workings
02:43
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The rays
The rays
The inner workings of the world
Share their face
With your veins and mine
And you follow
And you squeak
The minds are outside
The minds are outside
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4. |
Black Pencil
03:49
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The black pencil draws the eyebrow. Have mercy. Now this is the contour and this is the shape. When your arm drops. Soft. Round. Piece of meat. Piece of flesh. Soft and round. And soon you'll realize as I'll crawl inside. I'll crawl inside. And the form will devour me.
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5. |
A Twitch
03:19
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The way you turned out... it hints at something else than a mere struggle with imagination.
You can't account for your time,
you spend days and weeks and months among people from another universe.
The complete collapse of memory is at work
and covers all events with a thin veil of misunderstanding.
So come here and step towards the abyss with me.
Come take my arm and dream with me about falling.
Let us bury the past and lose ourselves in the haze of our limbs.
Now come with me and clutch the hands of your maker.
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6. |
Compass
02:01
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7. |
Snow White Priests
03:34
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Snow white priests come again and fall out of scope of the real and the unreal. And they lose track of their minds along with their bodies. Snow white priests. They claimed to have understood the world. But they don't speak the language that I speak. They are living in someone else's hallucination. Now you speak to me about their place and mine. We're condemned to survive in a world of imaginary haptics. And I climb. I claim. I fold. I spit. On their grave and mine. Their grave and mine.
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8. |
Organize
04:52
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We immersed
In the silent storm
We were burning
The gas lamps illuminating our way
The cave we found
Absorbed us
We could hardly see
We were all wrong
We were hardly animals
Hardly human beings
Hardly stones
Showing their faces
To the mob
We were not there
We weren't even on our way
The bed was soaked
The window's closed
The heat was gone
Trying to navigate
Through the grass
And the roots
And the bones tripping
Facing the gravel
They just got up
Went somewhere else
And I remained seated
Calm me down
Say no more
Calm me down
Say no more
Cross yourself
And imprint yourself
In the ground
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9. |
Traps
04:25
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Head held high
I’ll soothe you
Hand kept tight
I’ll lure you in
Come my friend
And let the light of love
Shine through you
Head held high
Endure you
Maybe
There’s a reason for all this folly
But it won’t come round my way
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10. |
The Moth (Fold #4)
02:08
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The fold closes the circle around my body and yours. The city burns to the ground that reveals the remains of all our fears. The ones that turned out to be true. They sleep and they don't. The imbalance grows and throws everything out of shape. The features are skewed and twisted. The everyday ghosts change shape. And nothing makes sense anymore. The scent reaps. The memories go awry. The bile revolves in the mouth. The descend begins and ends. The final position is too familiar to everyone involved. Spit up and cease to exist.
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