1. |
American Tantrum
03:04
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The morality of normality never made sense to me. Security and stability has left us stagnant and weak.
I'm free of petty needs and luxuries. A life void of the daily mundane.
The lust for legacy keeps us clinging to our offspring, as if to salvage our species (from evolving).
Vicarious by nature, we live through each other; live life undercover.
We compare and conform till our self is theirs. No difference but names. Comfortable and afraid - one in the same.
I used to be free of petty needs and luxuries. The day to day mundane beckons my name.
"You've gone back to the ball and chain; dove back into the Dead Sea I buried your body in; sleeping with the fish I sent you to cast your net on. You can't hear me from 6 feet under."
Who am I now?
I am no longer. I am no longer who I was in You.
Just another man - just another slave.
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2. |
Monologue
02:21
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Finding rest in the wombs of sisters like an infant to its mother's breast - clinging for dear life. Dear wife, forgive my adultery against your siblings. I carry their pain with me like an inbred in my arms.
I need a rebirth.
Incessant, incestuous sacrifices of chastity. I'll die for my family, but only for my own primitive needs: lust, greed, and the fear of being left with me, but never for the love of thee.
Martyrdom of me.
"You've been chasing purity instead of mercy. Child of charity, become who I've called you to be."
Take me back to the womb.
Shake hands with time; reset the clock.
Make a deal with this devil of a son.
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3. |
Idealist
03:54
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Sometime I hide behind the shadow of my old self. I'll forsake the sun and bow before an ocean shelf. Choosing the lightless abyss, unexposed to my regrets.
Sometime I hide behind the shadow of my old self. I'll forsake the sun and bow before an ocean shelf.
Flush faced, I'm sick of my heart racing to sunsets.
Yellow fades to black, guilt turns its back; I'm free to wear the shackles of desire.
I'm cornered by light.
In search of Atlantis only to be alone. A kingdom of my own, myself centered on the throne, some days I wish to reap the hatred that I've sown.
Clothed in stolen robes, crowned with the thorns this seed was planted in.
Seated on my high chair, watching as the bodies of those I've used, manipulated and lied to pile. "Bow before me, all who have served the king!"
Sometime I hide behind the shadow of my old self. I'll forsake the sun and bow before an ocean shelf. I deserved to remain lost at sea. Martyrdom of me.
Cornered by light.
"This is not who you are to me."
Hiding behind my own shadow, night turns to day. I depart from my kingdom, surfacing from this hell I made.
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