1. |
Orgasm Death Gimmick
01:56
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Time took my soul.
Asleep, never waking
My death, not yet tolled,
I am on the threshold
(It's keeping me alive).
Barbed wire swelling a weak mind.
The day I wake is the day I will die.
There is no me.
Lock me in an orgone machine,
Behind closed doors, I might have energy.
For now, I'm pulling my own teeth,
Until the madness takes the best of me.
The day I wake is the day I will die.
There is no me.
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2. |
Sequelae
01:43
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Stain me, my inkblood prophecy.
You taught me everything about the things I could be:
My back glued to wet sheets
That hit I so badly need
My mind, a waiting room of pharmacies
When he touched me, I didn't feel anything
A twelve-year-old girl was all I could see.
Her breasts on a plate, it was clear she was me.
Static so loud, give me headache.
I'll never forget the way her eyebrows had raised.
So, here I am, resting in malaise.
My old friend illness,
Take me away.
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3. |
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"O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy."*
And his dark secret love does thy light destroy - is your light destroyed?
Appropriate my disease.
It looks good on you when your hair is teased.
Appropriate my disease.
Is your light destroyed?
*taken from "The Sick Rose" by William Blake.
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4. |
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Let us grow bitter. I'll seek no strangers
To bring through our doors,
Lest he hurt us all.
Never grow hungry or eat again
From the floor of this ugly, ugly world.
Maybe, our sisters were right to lie, cheat, and steal.
Yes, they were right to talk, fuck, and take.
We've traveled for so long to be kidnapped, raped, and beat.
We've traveled for so long...
We are free by the hand of lighting,
To evade all immoral travesty.
Our brothers, our fathers, our rulers,
Will not make another speech, will have no mouths,
We'll make them bleed.
I'm burning down that prison, that tree.
I'm burning down that prison by the hand of our lightning.
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5. |
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A cold stare and the hands of a scavenger
No muscles in the face could wet a dry tongue
Spirits go blue for the seasons of light, of love, of health
There were no myths, no petroglyphs
To prepare you for this horror story
Failed etiology will bring us more suffering
You can't bear the burden of a whole generation grown black, grown cold, invisible
We will have more children that will live even longer to perfect this ancient stigma
They will mourn us (on public walls) only on our death days
What's to become of fields grown soft? Will we sleep into Lethes?
Underground, uncovered, this is what we've dreaded
But if we were burned, not buried, things could end differently
The rest is the same: the grief, the mourning
But, at least there'd be
No bodies to unease
Your social conditioning
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6. |
Ruined Machine
02:49
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every day i scratch and tear
loosen and tighten
and try to remove parts
some screws are still too tight
these parts have welded together
my spirit has corroded
inside this selfish violent shell
constantly fighting to rework and heal
with new remedies, new tools
strip away this shell, rebuild my spirit
and find the tools to create and destroy
or find a way to forge them
love and heal, destroy and rebuild
these tools are in our dying world
these tools are in our dying selves
these tools are in our living world
these tools are in our living selves
i have to find them
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