1. |
Rune
01:04
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Forever shrouded in image: interests to obscure identity, rhetoric to confound reality. When will you let go of this superficial nonsense? The effects of insecurity, your own dark materials. Forever shrouded in image. When will you let go of this superficial nonsense?
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2. |
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Waste of time. No return. Over and over and over again. No one listens. No one cares. Beating my head into this wall. I guess it's the time when I'm not depressed, but I'm still depressed.
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3. |
Illusion
01:15
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Tastemakers! Trendfucks! Your spells of enchantment are penned in the twisted script of binary code. The veil is lifted, when sound pierces ears, when eyes meet eyes, when flesh touches flesh. Dry and flaccid world, devoid of taste. Hype commands, blandness is chic.
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4. |
Rune Void
01:12
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Battle of semantics, war of attrition. You are nothing. I know, I know, I know, you don't want to be judged or defined. To escape linguistic prison you'd betray identity. It’s personality abdication. You are the maggot writhing in the rotting skull of language. You are nothing.
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5. |
The Hammer
02:19
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My sense of control is now a sense of escape. Lust and impulse are simply routine. Bring down the hammer, a bludgeon to my shrines. Bring down the hammer to the corpse of my worship. Comfort is the gateway to acquiescence. Contentment, another word for stagnation. Bring down the hammer, a bludgeon to my shrines. Bring down the hammer to the corpse of my worship. Everything up to this point was a waste. Everything we ever built lies in ruins. Now it is time to truly begin.
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6. |
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Burn out your eyes, blind yourself to the architecture of the marionettes. Tastemakers' pawns, passionless monsters, passing on their rot like vicious lepers. I thought this was the fringe, free from the infection, free from the corruption. Their social norms are deathly mundane. I thought this was the freedom of our hearts. Black-hearted vultures, frothing at the mouth, devour our fruits of labor, mere sustenance. Deafen your ears to the hollow cries of bitter wraiths who haunt these halls. Soul-crushing leeches draining every ounce till there's nothing left.
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7. |
Moral Graffiti
00:57
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Twisted truth. Smearing lies. Dripping ego. Paint is only temporary. Your black mark is never cleansed. Emotional vandalism. Twisted truth. Smearing lies. Dripping ego. The noxious fumes of ego.
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8. |
My Home, My Tomb
00:45
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Here I am in these four walls. I can't go out, I can't stay in. A wasted day, a wasted night, exchanged for peace, a wasted life. Boredom! Warm and comforting boredom. Tedium! Release me from pressure. Petrified! Stagnant and afraid.
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9. |
Diaphanous Shift
02:50
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No apologies and no compromise, we are far too young and clever to be caught in your cobwebs of responsibility. We hammer nails blindly and cast stones in idiocy. We are cataracts on the eyes of compassion. You cowards, you fools. It's deplorable! Repulsive! Despicable! Unconscionable! No apologies and no compromise, we are far too young and clever for second thoughts, to hear the cries, to ever care, to disengage the vernacular coils that entwine our hearts.
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