The Master Thief Who Stole Your Lucid Dreams (A Retrospective Anthology Of My Early Sample​-​Based Creative Work)

by Wings Of An Angel

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about

This is an extensive anthology of 30 tracks that sums up a creative period of some 10 years – circa 1996-2006.

The tracks in this anthology are taken from the following sources:

1. haloDim - Wings of an Angel & Mercury Waters
Production: Wings of an Angel
Original Lyrics & Performance: Mercury Waters

2. Paragon Black - Wings of an Angel & Agent Smith
Production: Wings of an Angel
Original Lyrics & Performance: Agent Smith

3. Wings of an Angel & abb-d - 4 track album "Screaming Silence - The Concept of Pain".
Production: Wings of an Angel
Lyrics & Performance: abb-d
Art Book Attached as PDF - Poetry By Wings of an Angel, Design by abb-d

4. Instrumental sample-based music by yours truly.
Production: Wings of an Angel

I tried to remember whom I had sampled from back in the day and give proper credits (look in each track's info). If you were left out and want a credit – let me know and I will add it immediately.
Disclaimer: I left sampling altogether and for the better in early 2006, starting to experiment with original soundscapes some time earlier.

Many years have passed along since, however, I still reckon this early material has a lot of value because of its wild creativity and reflections of what can be done with existing bits and pieces of audio. Needless to say, I have never meant to actually "steal" anything nor the work was/is meant to be of any commercial nature/value. You were/are/will be the original creator – if you come to recognize your work here. I merely played with reframing and giving new life and meaning to existent music. It was my vision back then, my passion… It brought about supreme ecstasy and fathomless bliss. Throughout those years, I had developed many dozens of distinctive and unique methods and techniques – thus I had never been limited by sampling. I strongly believed that such creative work had the right to exist in this world. When I was working with samples – It truly was as if I were an omnipotent and omnipresent union of GOD + THE DEVIL & EVERYTHING BEYOND & IN-BETWEEN. As if I existed within all the elements simultaneously. Nothing compared to this genuinely spiritual experience. There were practically no limits to what I could do with existent audio. All the world's (and beyond that) instruments, sounds, tones etc' were in my disposal and creative arsenal. I also did not work with templates, although in very early works, I worked with sample-cds I had previously bought in London. My cogwheels would then work nonstop – in a completely free, improvisatory and mysteriously associational mode… LOW LATENT INHIBITION… My brain was fathomlessly open to all incoming stimuli… Resulting in an unparalleled intensity!

The whole wide world was my playground. Since I was never a commercial artist and was not interested in releasing my music commercially – I also felt as if I did not have to break my head over all these stupid copyright laws. Which were and remain, by the way, a criminal insult to one's creativity. It is yet another ugly scheme to regulate creativity and control our consciousness. Sampling is theft? C'mon, give me a break! That hypocritical bleeding heart bourgeois mentality has always been driving me mad – it is based on less than mediocre values, extremely narrow perception of what art is and can be and overall hollowness of vision.

This is the perfect platform to THANK WHOLEHEARTEDLY each and every artist I had sampled from!

All in all, this release reflects the work of an outsider creative hermit who used ancient software (by today's standards) in search of the miraculous in sound and was trying to express himself by the limitations of the existent – not by creating/adding new sounds. It was pure recycling which I greatly enjoyed back in the day. It was a majestic challenge to construct each and every composition herein – just like a puzzle.

Also, the collaboration I had with with my main three main collaborators at that time - Mercury Waters, Agent Smith & abb-d - were pure magic. It was hip-hop/trip-hop music of a unique quality, with original poetry by these remarkable poets and cryptic psychic energy circulating between us... I am still confident that our songs together are timeless.

I humbly feel that for you who are familiar with my contemporary body of work – and for those who hear my creative adventures for the first time – this is a worthy and even essential addition to my ever-growing lifelong catalog. It is a mirror back in time…

* Please pay attention to the bonus art book – an early collaboration between myself and designer abb-d. He did 4 original and wholly unique designs based on my poetry – the conceptual umbrella being the concept of SCREAMING SILENCE.

Yours Truly,
Wings of an Angel
- - - - - - - -
"paljastavad israeliidist müstiku tihke kontseptsiooni, mis koosneb araabia/Lähis-Ida motiividest, eeterlikust koorilaulust, helipoeesiast, spoken word`ist, free jazz`ist ning vaevumärgatavast immitsevast elektroonikast. Tõepoolest, üldistatult võib seda teost käsitleda osana maailmamuusikast, kui moodsat fusiooni, milles traditsionalistlik laulumana on toetatud naturaalpillide (hurdy-gurdy, viiul, tabla-trummid) ja programmeeritud rütmidega. Meeleolud kõiguvad minoorse ja tumemeelse vahel või siis seguna kahest, mängides kohati teadlikult darkwave`iliku kontseptuaalse süngusega. Iseäralikem lugu on Ishq For Majnun, kus sõnum edastatakse emsii võtmes, mille taamal hakkavad tumedakõlalised orkestratsioonid tasahilju progresseeruma. Kunstiliselt suurepärane album, mis lisaks kõigele demonstreerib võimalikkust, et juudid ja araablased võivad rahumeeli üksteise kõrval eksisteerida ning teineteise kultuuripärandit austada"
- - -
"Wings of an Angel, a musician from Israel, presents his antagonism against the truth of gurus, educated specialists, artists and other warts who are used to think they are most competent of deciding what must be right or wrong in this world. It continues the profound mysticism-veiled tradition of his previous albums. Sung or spoken in Hebrew, English and Russian, it is quite hard to understand should it be the opus in the praise of human being or not. By being and burning in hell is it the ban of him/her or not? The God is dead (is it?). All those mesmerizing verbal outputs are accomplished with the diverse scale of sampled sonic structures (world music, improvised music, New Age, slowly breaking sounds, minimalism etc).
- - -
"podría parecer para aquel que recién se inicia en la experiencia que proporciona este álbum, como un paisaje desierto y frío. La "rusticidad" y desolación de la atmósfera desde el comienzo puede desorientar al oído, sin comprender bien de qué se trata todo el asunto. Mas con el avance de la música, y así, de las ideas impresas en ella, uno empieza a entender y percibir la carga sentimental de una obra como esta. Música repleta de pasajes oscuros, en los cuales se vislumbra luz ocasionalmente. Se van a encontrar con pasajes sonoros extensos, minimalistas en varias ocasiones, alternados con cantos, palabras recitadas, poemas, y una instrumentación variada, con marcada impronta de Asia del Sur, que en conjunto estimulan el pensamiento y el sentimiento de uno. Introspección y melancolía, entre varias cosas más, es lo que proporciona este muy bien logrado trabajo, el cual resulta en una mejor experiencia al escucharlo bajo ciertas condiciones, cierto ambiente. Cada uno juzgará cuales le convienen mejor".
- - -
"This exceptional album blends world music, hip-hop. electronica, and new age into a full package of sound experiences guaranteed to alter your mind. The artist manages to combine jazz with middle eastern sounds in an album that celebrates both. I do not think I’ve heard anyone do this as successfully since Pharoah Sanders. While often sounding dark and atmospheric, it maintains a spiritual essence that stays with you long after the last track. Wings of an Angel’s music explores deepness and darkness in a mystic mood. Nobody on earth does the same music…”

credits

released September 17, 2016

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about

Wings Of An Angel Israel

Ambient magician and outsider poet-philosopher whose works blend these passions in fascinating ways. My life's work is to humbly give wings to my infinite psychedelic imagination. This ever-expanding alternative universe explores intimate mental landscapes, existential commentary and unorthodox humor wrapped in a holy trinity of Avant-garde sound art, thought-provoking titles & original covers. ... more

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Track Name: CD 1 - 04 - Kourakan Prayer (Feat. Agent Smith)
eyelids split, light sifts through broken lashes
stopping a distant vision that comes in ugly flashes
he's asking himself if waking was ever this dreamlike
because he can feel his face against the tile but the haze just doesn't seem right
like a man who wakes on a tightrope made of "fake"
and a plummet to left or right is the difference of sleep and awake
so there he lays in wonder at the sight of a cruel subtraction
with nothing but a phantasm and no tool of abstraction
he would not have argued if a man dipped a hammer in ambien
and helped him escape to slumber from this strange and empty land he's in
his relative views landed him in satire
and this fake traveller flew by white light and black fire
match mire, muck and fog with his mind spirit and heart
with enough torque in the sun dial, metamorphosis starts
butterfly stretches new wings made with the feeling
of floating too slow to reach for spoils in the ceiling

(who am i? where did i come from?)

if his lips tasted sweetness, it was an unknown bliss
and if his bones rested freely it was on stone-carved kiss
if it was get up in walk it was travel into unknown
if light it was "blue lake 40" color to match the skin tone
this stone temple stood starting line to his path
that he travelled- untrodden with his cataracts cracked
re-animated optic, idols lifted up and dropped it
you had a dark memory found, he can guarantee he lost it
Track Name: CD 1 - 07 - River Of Darkened Happiness (Feat. Mercury Waters)
Verse

Literal definition over ridded oversight life/
Till death do us we do death not quite right/

See she tried twice unsuccessful blessed the schedule/
Once more for completion thus the soul leaves completely/
If a word tears tears from the eye/
Then an action undoubtedly doubles the reply/

Forward thinking individual miserable sad state of mind/
A broken city at the top of the spine/
The mouth is the gutter the eyes spotlight shine for showtime/
Stained famous and nameless at the same time/

So she’s two faced and one sides blank and blind/
She cranks a faceless watch that can’t keep the time/
It keeps every minute 6 hours behind/
So she lost pace with a power divine/

And she’s worse off for it nothing but cursed talk pouring/
Like a river of darkened happiness through a valley/
Of sadness that can’t be inspired or tallied/
Or brought to terms with life outside the alley/

Not much but a shell/
Lost in every corner she fell/
Disgusted by trust and the way pride smells/
A stinch warded off so long/
Her anti-live is so strong/

Nothing but a broken records song/
She repeats it to herself wallowing swallowed in deep depressed psyche graveling/
For more volatile violin strums gothic choir of misery hollering/
I will not answer the invitation of happiness/


Verse

Unsteady unsure of what may lay beyond that door/
Psycho-analyzing every possible cycle/
Pain disciple seeks guru position listen to conscience/
And con-science every time/

Flying without option threw caution to the wind and that breeze caught the drift/
Just a sip of the happiness can’t fade my jaded outdated/
Wait a minute that melody it floats on the wings of an angel/

Sound can’t touch this seductress with butter soft clutches/
A smile ain’t so painful gotta say it again a smile ain’t so painful/
Full of pain yet I smile/
I ain’t shined in some time polish is beautiful/
Deep rooted in sorrow I grew to you/

Like branch to fruit to sunshine to taste buds to face love/
I now appreciate what’s mine/
If for nothing else thank you for realization/
An open door can heal a nation of millions to hold us back/

From the face stretching ear to ear grin/
All I know is that/
Freedom is fingertip close and with the palm of your hand you play host/
Exercise your alive and exorcise ghosts/

Arrive riding on sound and my ground floats/
Loving the gravity defiance the sky and I elope/
Falling without boundary/
Pounding the door forever more you found me/
Drowning in an invitation to happiness/
Track Name: CD 2 - 02 - Free Exploration (Feat. Mercury Waters)
Verse

Late escape brushes with death’s door/
Against the grain professing the texture/
So surprised the moment is yes yours/
Do with it what you will fulfilling the folklore/

Trained journeyman turning in his stripes/
Learning his life is now government property/
Marred by the war he can’t speak properly/
He can’t find language to describe the anguish he’s seen/

But it reoccurs daily in his dreams/
Between asleep and awake unable to rip the seam/
Can’t tell the difference between sunlight and moonbeam/

Soon things evolve its inevitable/
And problems never resolve on schedule/
Street corner homeowner Uncle Sam left me stranded/
Knowing nothing but war and with it I’m branded/

I played your game made puppet of me/
Drug me through the dirt/
Showed me horror and to speak of it hurts/
So I stay silent some sad stories strum violins/
But instead I deadly kiss the horn and blow violence/

They label it free jazz but I’m a slave to a way of life dubbed nomad/
No man should endure such drudgery/
Instead of recovery I decided on becoming me/


Verse

Myself in every note quote me on that/
Or transcribe the words in a musical format/
No is b flat and yes is c major/
This horn’s a steam engine so listen to the vapor/
It’ll take you to places beyond the paper/
Or can’t think of I call it the savior/
Repaying debts from all those I gave love/
Payment due like “hey, Ron can I stay with you”/

Just until I get my feet underneath me/
Discretely denied survive on my own then/
The lost soul knows no friend but his horn/
And plays compositions to proposition the morn/

Can’t form words to sentences or chords to songs/
Or good days to a stretch of positive luck/
Keeping the beat but my timing is up/
The downbeat surrounds me thinking the jig is up/

Not a give in; in me I’ll survive for centuries/
Bred through the music and the elements of inner speech/
Brought to my world the corner of Madison ave. and hey young world/
The choice is yours to voice right in spite of your apparent plight/

Look to the future there is sight/
Beyond sight beyond mortal torture/
Build a musical fortress/
No victory is ever lossless/
Track Name: CD 2 - 03 - The Darkness Of Unexplored Pavements (Feat. Agent Smith)
lights travel through translucent skin/ as he walks before sunrise in this city of sin/ wings broken for the moment, feet smacked to the ground/ he would walk for the duration of night as it fades out/ you could see the brittle glass bones as magic hour passes/ if you could climb the skyscrapers and use the windows as glasses/ his back bends, at angles unrecorded/ he would do anything to get his vertabrae re-ordered/ he bartered his sanity for a walk among monoliths/ and this emptied out street was the last thing that bothered him/ it was a moment as if sun chased the blink of an eye/ and he was running to cold rock but he was followed by fire/ it was a sun-moon saloon fight, where the orchids didn't bloom right/ and this heliocentric world had a venomous bite/ and white-out and permanant ink mixed to make a moment/ where this man would view earth tilt through a blown lens/ as it rolled defeated on that universe floor he still walked--gravity still worked/ but it was not without struggle that his feet touched crust/ and as every second passed, the sun travelled up/ and the minute the blue planet stopped rolling/ he would fall into the sky and wait for the next morning/ and as he fell upwards, his head would hit cloud cover/ celestial skull crack, sky-borne concussion/ but he'd never spill his marbles, he knew his bones well/ he'd hit the sky a million times but his face would never tell/ the clouds when the morning hit were ever denser than granite/ but his bones would re-assemble, his face remained scarless/ and although the upwards plummet never caused him much unrest, at times he wished he could sink through the scarlett clouds of the sunset/ but as long as he came to, the next morning walking/he could try again to escape and make his true God an offering/ but as of now his head headed towards 5 senses deaded/ and the soft orange light was coming sooner than expected/ the bones in his feet, they were less and less pressured/ until gravity would give way and his frame would be rejected/ if there was ever an example of a split-second detective/ it would be this wingless wanderer with a splintering perspective/ he wrecked it--bad, and his eyes would never rest/ nor would his demons find him in his celestial address/ when gravity flipped he would reach out, he was desperate to hold on/ but his hands would be as soft as the clouds that knocked him unconscious/ his silken bone structure, wavered in morning wind/ and the air holding him down vibrated his favorite hymns/ it would be a lovely fall as lighted windows rushed past him and the pastel technicolor busted through night's casket/ it was duality that kept him; maintained his dreams/ but sleeping in cloud lining is easier than it seems

i guess i'll just keep walking

footstep by footstep, daylight by daylight/ he would wait right until his broken body made the same flight/ and sometimes the memory of his previous joke of an a.m./ would tickle and bite him at the darker side of his brainstem/ but it never did surface as legitimate recall/ his thin illiterate feet had always failed to read the rainfall/ the saturated streets acted as paths to his nowhere/ and he would walk cold and curious through his hand-made delirious/ and the next time the dawn cracked would he fall up forever?/ his thoughts would always ask him as he fell into frescoed heavens/ the wind would cut skin as his journey up progressed/ but rest assured the rest occurred beneath his brainwave's crest/ so there he travelled/ in troughs of thoughts unravelled/ baffled by the sky and how oh-so fast he travelled/ he was a tragic comedian, first hand feeling the medians/ his fleeting vision treated him to love taps that weakened him/ and he was on the cusp, of finally waking up/ but for fear of his own discomfort he chose to stay trapped/ the fact that he laughed at mobious-looped lucid deamlife:/ unorthodox at best in this post-nuclear bedtime/ if he could only get himself to look at his beaten dreams/ he would quit this horrid cycle, and regrow his wings/ he wouldn't have to leave what he loved about the sunrise he could simply soar above his hate, and finally let his tears die

i guess i'll just keep walking.
Track Name: CD 2 - 04 - My Sweet Darkness (Feat. Mercury Waters)
Chorus

When its time I awaken eyes closed/
Still bathing in my sweet darkness/
Uninitiated to the process/
We ain’t just half man we complex/
Physical ritual objects/


Verse

Large life cycle disciples plotting on forever/
Could never calculate the half-life/
That’s right in my mind every lines lightning signed/
Let the spark travel down the dark side of your spine/

Electrify your soul I testify to nullify control/
Behold the awakening/
Taking it to the streets and meet what’s equated to speech/
But really half-speak out the side of the mouth/

Divided’em out to see the real motives friend, foe or soldier/
Close quarters, hold swords to your throat till you think it over/
And overload what the quota holds for me and my kind/
Me and my mind plots to overcome the earthly confine/

Dirt self worth and non-opening minds time for change/
Signed the name haloDim-witted I present the purpose gifted/
Tied with a bow to your soul ball and chain style/
Dragged the whole nine yards, 40 acres and a mile/

I become the mule carrying the movement into new school/
Educated contemplating spending heaven in the matrix fool]/
Swallowing emcees I hate this food/
Purified my inside no longer will I take this crude/

Face grew to make this move/
Out of prey now I’m chasing you/


Verse

Scheme of rhymes like a turbine energy packed/
Never-ending journey never knowing when he’ll be back/
Words are prison bound care package send him a jack/
And let my lungs lift the weight of life off of your back/

Lighten your load every word I’m writing is soul/
Or pieces of it, that restructured out of control/
Complete La Revolucion defeat the heavily armed/
Life’s a vagabond sin without her make-up on skin/

Face the new face and embrace the launch-pad/
Rocketed bullets off Broadway to bombs over Baghdad/
Cover your brain present a face to cover you pain/
Others were slain trying to tag us out of your range/

You’re reaching for my speeches in vain intravenous/
A million thoughts between us trying to catalogue its/
Like counting every droplet of rain metaphoric/
Hopping the train of thought without destination or port/

Or support or foundation/
My sweet darkness ain’t the lighter side of nature/
Or the textbook response to a salaam a lakem/
And peace be unto you when you awaken/
And realize vital signs forsaken/
Track Name: CD 2 - 06 - Father Time (Feat. Mercury Waters)
Verse

If at first you don’t succeed suspend disbelief/
And if all else fails pretend it never breathed/
I’m clay-footed on the yellow brick to where forever leads/
There’s the here and the now and I’m tethered in between/

Worn thin stretched across the frost of the morning/
Sunsets stress relief and the rise is the warning/
Solar siren become one with the environment/
I and I buys entire souls on consignment/

Its freedom from asylum unity with the universe/
Sky-walking on the firey wings of truth it hurts/
We respond to the messages we used to lurk/
And answer back through the birth pains of mother earth

Delivered into infantry from basic training to faint acquaintances with enemies/
Simplicity haloDim glistening/
2nd lifeline out of time closed mind/
father time are you listening/

verse

the third times the charm the struggle is the bracelet/
speak lies then facelift the sum of the statements/
sent truth on a little vacation/
where stars are born in frustration/

super novas are super close to tempers boiling over/
I shot for the stars but couldn’t control the holster/
This time in vain they’ll allude the six shooter/
But next time they’ll have a bullet wound to get used to/

It seems murders on the mind most frequent/
Lost of the virtue that turns you delinquent/
The same virtue that turns this great circle we inhabit so lavishly/
And exploit it to its fullest capacity/

Enamored with this sledgehammer of savagery contaminated/
Tailed by a force to fast to shake it/
Shaking free of the shackles that contain me in a nutshell/
If freedom is death then whats hell/
Track Name: CD 2 - 08 - Chasing Angels (Feat. Agent Smith)
turn down degobah sound-system,
kick back and fill gaps with floor of psyche paint splatter incisions
this situation seems nothing but ambiguous
and these sails pull hard because this rigging is rigorous
so i split lids and sit up, take in the night view slowly
and hear a silent lullaby to the glowing tips on incense sticks
now give me space for a pause, take the quiet and run
never ask for directions, reach deep within your blood
with shameless stars-or-bust fashion release the inner seeds
with the elixir that sits in soul that shifts the pitch of your deeds
i've been there silently screaming like black and white film crackle
and only now do i seem to be hatefully re-mastered
i spit a tongue twister to untwist my mind
and the kaleidescope breaks and time becomes a lie

(forever chase angels)

every now and then there comes a time when emotions bottle-neck
when i lose the right to speak to a broken soul and a crooked neck
there are times you can accept, and others exist too
where i want to run down an innocent wall to stick my fist through
so today my soul had a vacuum that could smoke 10 cigars in an hour
to drown my brain, eject from misery and snuff the light in the tower
now its wind chimes, wind chimes to cut me from the thin lines
that i attached via double-knot methods to an angel's heart
this angel's heart made it start to cool down inside a furnace
that burns beneath a heart that pumps diluted blood in earnest
and long story short it seems more than a year has passed
and i look upon this angel from the other side of an empty glass
will i sit here forever, to gaze on sparkling faces
or will i try to walk the line that almighty God's finger traces
it becomes better visible, as i awake from stasis
and if i could choose who to walk it with it would be hand grasping an angel's fist
so change the channel for a second, to a parallel universe
same day, heads up, it's time for tails to face the dirt
because she's a beautiful winged lady who's wings have been clipped and battered
who's been force-fed lies and her dreams have been lifted and shattered
i'm the weak and ugly type who prefers percussion over harps
and who prefers happy endings over falling tears and broken hearts
i'll forever chase these angels, to be solid ground to walk across
and i'll do my best not to find that your hope is all but lost
and my words have begun to weaken by the second
because i use all different ways to say that you were sent from heaven
so as my words falter the phone-line waits
the static sounds like rain and we pray for an escape
because we walked straight to the chalice of love to take a drink
now we sit here and wonder what it is we're supposed to think
now the image that slaughters eyes flickers on then off
then it starts in a brand new place where pain remains with faces gone
and i sit exposed here in a room without any windows
with no doors to speak of and just a singular lit bulb
i'm alone with myself, and the pen stops cold
and these pages solidify, temperature drops among these folds
and it's pitiful when i second guess my painful maneuver
and cry to the source of my elation and agony
i just wanna pull the rope, drop the curtains on a show
that the audience quit watching more than an hour ago
no one wants to hear about this self-inflicted tear explosion
no one wants to hear about this spirit's grip on erosion
as i grasp on shimmering halos with feet cemented and smoldering
and shrug this andromeda that my shoulders are holding
i lay beaten after contending with angels
the same fist that smashes also ends up a savior
'
dear God hear me, i'm so tired of hurting
i want to rip out my stomach and throw it as far as i can hurl it
once you tie your hair back you'll hear a story that will curl it
as long as i see the beauty i can tell my self its worth it.


my heart ached for this man...blow on blow fell on pontius


i march and run to an inside voice that screams inside my lungs
i try to protect my soul from that which is never done
can i go, can i stop? can i fly? can i drop?
can i taste success in attempt to fight my malady can i be
or will i forever be ghostly mostly its a voice i avoid
with it's own special echelon echoing on the blundering dawn
i'm bloody but calm, i may trip but i'll always be on
and now its "taps" on my ear drums
put me to sleep and flee from my dreams
come survey the wreckage with breakfast of bricks
and rations of free love you speak of
i dig through layers to find forsaken snares as angels tear
this cloak of denial that i run with
i come with pain, i leave with knowledge
i ride the wind amidst the rain
perpetual rowing in river of flame
surpassing the shame that laughs at insane
packaging hearts to send them away
stuck in a shrinking room with detention-level bliss
giving a definition to this molotov kiss
banzai tree zen-level, lit side of the tunnel
light-ray with edge beveled, the dark will come running
and i dance across the fine line to a shimmering pictorial of my own sin
i pray i don't lose control
and these angels run fast upon the wind flowing silent
and my heart struggles as it tries to contain this violence
beautiful and ugly, juxtaposed under broken roses
my ribcage sings in the spots where the whistling blows hit
i feel blocked from the sky as the seraphim lift
and uncover my eyes in the second my heart splits

and you appear frightened by the mystery by which we are enveloped
read this, my scroll, and give to me at least an understanding
he flies swiftly into the dawn like a shadow with a shadow

forever chase angels, and ugliness follows me
i resist to release my thoughts as i stumble and fall to my knees
go ahead and kiss me with a match on the tongue
i'll be here with a fuse in the teeth and a boom in the lungs
and i'm still here, a shadow of my former self
like a puddle of melted ice and i drip continually
i lay in this cavernous void of my left ventricle
do you want to lay with me? do you think you could handle it?
do you think you could understand my undecipherable eulogy
of a man who lives inside who died? it's nothing new to me
and my conscience is battered by my own misguided hands
it's a never ending story, how could you not understand?
have you ever lived in a way where the wind hurts the skin
and every time you see the beauty it further cements your sin?
where the room slips and falls, where the walls begin to scream
where it's far too vivid to even consider a dream

do you really want to know me? take a look at my sleeve
and i guarantee the bloodiest of organs will be there to see
hanging from broken filaments struggling to look up
as glistening scissor blades pull back and then cut
Track Name: CD 3 - 03 - In Memory Of Those Who Haven't Survived (Feat. Mercury Waters)
There are no inferior humans
There are no inferior humans
There are inferior thinkers
And infuriating actions
Victimizing innocent bystanders
Holocaust
A hollow cause
But don’t think you died for no reason
Forced martyr-hood
It ain’t all good
But he’s dead now so we feel some sense of being avenged
He hated my people like he hated yours and himself
But he’s dead now so we feel some sense of being avenged
He hated my people like he hated yours and himself
But he’s dead now and your love still lives on