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Death Instinct
01:57
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The river dragon winds swiftly through street and self;
A sickly tribe of tyrants gnawing each other’s flesh in ecstatic erosion.
They do not understand what they do.
Believed they could contain all in all without consequence. As every fringe unfurls and every stitch is loosed, their invocation spills out of mouth:
"Outside within, center to sides
Pillar to wheel, swallowed by tides"
Among us walk these paradoxes, their riddles like spears against our skin. Every backward step to relieve the pressure brings one more step they take. You will know them by the ever changing faces; the shifting tongues of contradiction. As they worship their wounds and cry out their desire to swallow the light which defines them.
This clandestine parasite once silent at the corner offerings, now sheds its cloak and lifts it dagger in deafening annunciation.
Come, all you weary and burdened by this world. Turn your aching march up this mountain, and look out, and see. Clutch the dirt in astonishment as the world's inversion reaches its peak, and the last great cycle begins.
In the final grand breath, disintegration - total change - takes it's darkened throne. The victory bell rings without a listener, as man achieves the final progress: from a being to a corpse.
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With burning urgency
We abandon the cities
Leaving these soulless structures
To the mass of the wicked
Workers of all that is monstrous
Weavers of policy and law
Vacuous and spiteful
Bathing in lechery
We who see the crumbling earth
Offer our suffocated warnings
Not as prophecy, but only a pattern unfolding
Swaying between earthly fear and holy assurance
And so we cast it off,
The urban grid of rootless cosmopolitans
We are called away to the edge, where vanity is burned off. We who feel the dissonant pulse; the stench of this malignant decay. Looking back only to grieve.
These looming gray pillars of faceless nodes - monotonous bones and ghostly sinew , built by the labor of the desperate
At every turn the vipers pour out from hiding, constricting every edifice.
Give me land and seed
And frost on earth and glass
Let me rise and fall by your lantern,
Breathing air from a veil of evergreens.
May my hours be simple and true,
And with them all my words
Let our courage abide
In the last stand of darkness
Know that this will get worse before it gets better. We will bear witness to those who, with sword to throat, will one last time profess their alliance to their executioner. Countless are they who never understood the warfare; who believed the serpent could be fed to satisfaction.
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