A palimpsest of dissent; ghosts of signatures forged atop each other. Faceless shapes, generations that remain unnamed. Inherent oppressions, born as shadows cast from greater light, our lives visible only through retrospect. Globe in gradual pirouette, loop a noose around bare necks, mansions left uninhabited and riches left unspent. Does the nobler man remain unpaid than sign to tragedy his name?
Track Name: Time As White Sound
When we were kids we used to fill up tennis balls with matchstick heads and roll them through the town, at night when no-one was around; an explosion for our alone ears, a diary in a blind surveillance spot; meaning within a vacuum. And we grew into silent bombs ourselves. Friction, bodies jar against the rest, every now & then an ignition; facing me shouting my own thoughts, your features, like the grains of old oil paintings were faint from exposure; time as white sound spreading; shoulders blunted blades ache for wings. Absurd logic in the face of loss; building lives around time bombs. I feel like a rat, trapped, queasy concrete, a mind besieged; they feed me electric, shocked to death, words as a cage we never thought to escape, my feet a gentle weathering against the pavement. Cracks become islands; I tear those streets apart. ....And we grew into quiet bombs ourselves.
Track Name: Capital
I am a statue from a long line of sculpturers, with two lazy eyes & a limp handshake. I sleep ‘til whenever- don’t wake me up. Redefined every word & attached meaning to the absurd- it’s self-defeating, yet so pleasing. Weak enough to vanish into air. With iris’ like timepieces blinking drowsily at eternity; an unanswered call, a plea for meaning, a world deaf, dumb and blind. A larynx scraping against a wall, I make these cracks real. Bones crushed to dust beneath the weight of a history I can’t look in the eye. Our lives; like skewed lines in space-time. Kamikaze for the capital: “I will see you at the Yasukuni.”
Track Name: The Death Of A Very Dear Illusion
There’s only one day left & then I promise I’ll forget. I asked for nothing and I was given so much less. Death’s bed lures me to disbelief, life support, life machine. Was there ever even a chance? To finally put out of mind, admit the implausible design of a dream that kept me alive. It was so simple in my head, just so hard to manifest. I once stood up so tall, thought I could see further than the rest. It’s my belief that we all dream of ultimately the same thing, but pride... our pride keeps us apart. Kept our love trapped in a cage- the ugly beast we learned to tame. So afraid, far too afraid. Suddenly the truth came clear, like colours bursting into air: a plateau on which we now both stand, so free from hurt & so free from them.