1. |
Teething
00:30
|
|||
2. |
Control Group
01:25
|
|||
|
Marx was right:
Religion is the opiate of the masses,
administered to dull the intellect.
But now, clearly this drug that placates
always had the dangerous side effect
(among other [un]intended consequences...)
of stimulating hatred and violence
toward opposing viewpoints and other beliefs
based on just as much lack of evidence...
Take another dose, it’s just a placebo...
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Hiding behind
a [g]od you can’t see
does not justify
your lack of transparency...
Faith is your disguise—
no holes for the eyes...
Your radar can't detect
the sunrise...
|
||||
4. |
Free-Thought Bargain Bin
01:45
|
|||
|
Full-priced anemic paradise—
capitalism is a barren oasis...
Our wealth is nonexistent,
just a fairy tale.
Your dogma driven into our wrists—
ideology’s nails...
Your wealth is just a mirage,
empty green screen—
this movie not worth the watch
even with effects rendered
in the scene...
Like nothing you’ve ever seen—
still, it’s only a dream...
|
||||
5. |
Product Recall
01:44
|
|||
|
Corporation as simulacrum...
Its disfigured silhouette
a caricature of death
and corrupted innocence...
Soak this thirsty tourniquet
that suffocates the arms of discontent,
tied tight down to the skeleton—
cuts off morality’s circulation...
This plague of impulses,
immunities exhausted—
epitaphs of apologies we trusted...
How much has it cost us all?
|
||||
6. |
Patriotism Metastasized
01:41
|
|||
|
Edge of prosperity—
falls short of failsafe...
American dawn, force-fed
the face-first free-fall...
Break in the outbreak’s
propaganda—
spread its infection...
Viral marketing—
one indoctrination
under [g]od...
Your spine is a pole,
your brain the flag—
hand over your heart a sick joke,
can’t bring myself to laugh.
You hoist that flag each morning
just before the aftermath
of every reason to keep it
forever at half-mast...
You’ll be hypocrisy’s epitaph...
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
Eyelids are coffins closing in unison—
Life consumes itself born blooming
inside out, a collapsing star...
Time is skin we shed slithering
soulless into nothingness—
the lives we lived now orphans...
When forever goes
into sudden-death overtime...
Where Never is the face
wearing immortality’s disguise...
Whispering, “No afterlife,
nothing before—
nothing but now...”
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
Masculine pride, a fucking pestilence...
No crime you commit will you admit to
even when faced with evidence...
You act like justice is blind...
You prosecute to persecute
using laws you wrote as your only alibi...
Your violent history sanitized...
Power is a child you abuse...
You celebrate Columbus—
the Bermuda Traingle
your moral compass...
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
Not Really American...
Normality Reflects Apathy...
Negotiating Recurrent Aftermaths...
National Rationalization of Atrocity...
Your guns don’t prove you’re free—
unsubscribe from those MAGA-zines...
The constitution's tongue
tripped over its intention
and you shoved a barrel in its mouth
to see what it was trying to say—
now its words migrate across your tongue...
(Down your throat...
Choke…
Choke...
Choke…
Blackout...)
Collective amnesia, your only idea
for progress...
No Recovery Allowed...
|
||||
10. |
||||
|
This famine of tolerance:
we’re starving,
shedding the pounds—
bleeding out,
tourniquet this malnourishment...
Castrate the handshakes
that fuck those legal loopholes
your prayers use as hula-hoops...
You only feel remorse
for your forced apologies.
I’m prejudiced against bigots—
all racists look alike to me...
Fuck your heritage,
genetic wall behind which you breed—
leech off those you oppress,
confined in your "Land of the Free..."
Feed...
Leech...
Greed...
Preach your parasitic patriotism—
impenetrable, logic can’t breech...
Save your speeches touting
toxic pride in your anthem—
hypocrisy’s theme song
of relics and phantoms...
Parasite...
|
||||
11. |
Overdose as Inoculation
02:48
|
|||
|
In the War on Drugs
shoot heroin first—
narcotic dependence
on what doesn’t hurt...
Still you spend years
attempting to prevent
a cure for violence
and emotional outbursts...
History is a statue we carve,
our every decision chiseling away—
hard to discern the shape
through the dust
choking the air we breathe...
You can bury the hatchet
but not the corpse.
You’ve already grown bored
of what you’re fighting for.
How easily you forgive yourself
for taking more...
I clip obituaries like coupons,
too late to save all the lives you’ve spent.
Without consent, you prep
the needle to inject...
Hatred’s virus spreads—
compassion too sterile an epidemic,
just won’t infect...
Apocalypse on your tongue,
words pick off the breath
like a scab from the lung...
|
||||
12. |
||||
13. |
Prosthetic Heart
04:21
|
|||
|
Clench your gun in the fist
you'd use to punch me...
Wrench your guts with the gift
you'd use to love me...
To bleed jealous colors,
plucking eyelashes like thorns
from wounded rainbows...
All chests filled with toy hearts,
hatred born of your fist's womb...
Tectonic plates of my skull
quake and shift—
every thought of life,
continental drift...
Prosthetic heart,
paralyzed from the start...
You are the sky,
your scabs my clouds—
fingers scratch as you
rain down...
Humor must be the seventh sense...
Fortune-tellers read my palm-prints
pressed into the sediment...
The sky is a bottle broken
over my head...
These scabs my clouds—
fingers scratch as you rain down...
Traffic jam on the road to recovery—
or should I choke some more...
Trembling in my veins like a hologram
as mystics play ping-pong
with my third eye while words die...
These scabs my clouds...
|
||||
14. |
Buried Shovel
00:15
|
|||
|
Birth is a grave
that digs itself
from the inside out...
|
||||
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