I've drifted on a thousand walks before And it's looking like I'll drift a thousand more I've left the shallow reservoir behind And before I'll lose my face I'll lose my mind A beacon of emotion, a terrifying leader Fly your single engine Cessna to a point inside the ether Your sense leave you in the stratosphere You could be alive or you could just be here The pressure on your torso fuselage The price you pay for getting out of dodge Don't deny me brother, like Jesus said to Peter Fly your single engine Cessna to a point inside the ether Lost in the deep indigo spurning the void Chaste, pleasureless, disciplined, barely annoyed The freedom that you sought has turned to dust It goes beyond the funds depleted from your trust The memory of endless option left in store Is replaced by filthy claps of slamming doors Your accountability is just a show of theatre, Fly your single engine Cessna to a point inside the ether

Out past the quarry, beyond the hinterlands There lies the sycophant without a God Nobody knows his cause for faithlessness His toiling maintenance of the Land of Nod I have to praise him, I have to praise his name But I can't deny the feeling that I'm just the same In darkened cloisters, there races the penitent A tortured sentiment across his face He knows the verses, vulgar and formally But more importantly, he knows his place I have to praise him, I have to praise his name But I can't deny the feeling that I'm just the same The broken body, the scars of poverty No soul of property to call his own The Sycophant feels a sickness unto death There is no final breath when he dies alone I have to praise him, I have to praise his name But I can't deny the feeling that I'm just the same

Think of all the things that happen while your sleeping Your discontinuity is all that's keeping Universal order from a-manifesting on this earth Every day you build a structure that gets broken Things you should have written down were only spoken Every night, a death and every morning, your rebirth And you're just a breathing corpse with temporary sentience, Just a breathing corpse aspiring to be more Than a breathing corpse with a chip on it's should and a stubborn heart That's what the breathing corpse visions are for. Luckily a-nowadays your corpse is recorded Every single piece of data is reported To a wealthy loner in a barren electronic shell He will use your body to abandon the process Split his mind in half like the Red Sea's Moses Immortality is just a different kind of Hell. And you're just a breathing corpse with temporary sentience, Just a breathing corpse aspiring to be more Than a breathing corpse with a chip on it's should and a stubborn heart That's what the breathing corpse visions are for. If I never go to sleep, then I won't die If I never go to sleep, then I won't die If I never go to sleep, then I won't die I want to stay alive You can never transcend imperfection Your entire being is a misdirection From the cosmic essence that your ego's too fragile to bear Little did you know your subconscious is bleeding Droplets of your soul are fast depleting Living in the dreamscape too far gone to care. And you're just a breathing corpse with temporary sentience, Just a breathing corpse aspiring to be more Than a breathing corpse with a chip on it's should and a stubborn heart That's what the breathing corpse visions are for.

Hell's legions of the dead Are showing up at 3AM for my timely amusement Bearing, much to my amusement, all of my carnal desires Damned faces will change Back and forth between great beauty and decayed maladaptives Beckons to me in a fashion that commands the respect of his fires Oh! Mammon! Cut Me Open! Flay my skin and leave me broken! Drape my organs on your shoulders! I will be your chalice-holder! I'll sacrifice the rest of my life For the brief moments of the day I find pleasurable Leisure is worth it. Start. Hit a little hit. Drink a little drink till you know the golden face of the master. Feeding on blight and old disaster blessed is the mouth of the king. Eat. Eat a little more. Eat so much your body succumbs to the depth of your fetish Flesh makes if past the final edit, the remaining expulsion will sing. Oh! Mammon! Cut Me Open! Flay my skin and leave me broken! Drape my organs on your shoulders! I will be your chalice-holder! I'll sacrifice the rest of my life For the brief moments of the day I find pleasurable Leisure is worth it. Guts, shuffling all around Jiggling like a big ol bowl of Texas spaghetti Splayed out on the ol' machete living inside my spine Nerves drill their little heads Outside of my skin and arrange an elaborate webbing Think I know where the endings are heading, down to the devil's mine. Oh! Mammon! Cut Me Open! Flay my skin and leave me broken! Drape my organs on your shoulders! I will be your chalice-holder! I'll sacrifice the rest of my life For the brief moments of the day I find pleasurable Leisure is worth it.

Arrogant. I know that people find me arrogant. Those people are simply irrelevant. They're missing every crucial element. And I don't mind the fact they fear me, But still I'd like to have them near me. Alien. I walk among you as an alien. Although my features as mammalian. You would not hear my words as salient. You'd hear the language of a demon, But demons need folks to believe in. Why even bother to know anyone? Children take heed. You're all you need! All conversation is wasted on them. Don't fuel their greed. You're all your need! Innerspace. All of my friends are in my innerspace. They're trapped here so they wear a happy face To turn my cage into my special place And feel the crowd's humble elation For self-imposing isolation Tragedy, please do not see this as a tragedy My little subjects call me majesty And I indulge their sense of pageantry Although I think about it some days If they were flesh and not just thought waves Why even bother to know anyone? Children take heed. You're all you need! All conversation is wasted on them. Don't fuel their greed. You're all your need! Separate. My little subjects start to separate Become the people I pretend to hate Gain form and leave me to proliferate They're copies I'm the one and only I simply wish it weren't so lonely

I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight Stroking my knife, thinking of the good life I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight Peering inside thinking where I might hide I dream a little dream of violent home invasion Set up my little station Till the cops roll by my windows and see my wavin' I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight Thinking I might set it up as a class fight I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight 'Cause I'm so white I get away with my spite Despite my little dreams all I see are families Disturbs my fantasy 'Cause I could never dream of doing what they do to me See all the toys out in the yard I marvel at their children's objects And what they'll just discard Envy, the kind that makes you kill But I keep it sober Pathetic little thrill I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight Looking for light, creeping like a parasite I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight Starting a fight with myself at the jobsite I drink the bruises off and sleep inside the trailer Wake up to Mr. Taylor Joking that he should call me his neighbour I walk through the rich neighbourhood at midnight And it's alright that I won't get the good life

I am not here. Body's out of time. But I'm still here. They took my flesh and not my mind. Head to fingers, so divisive, to which part am I submissive? Something's missing but I don't miss it much Sedentary. I can't tell if I'm alive. Bodies beg me, leave yourself and make your tithe. Peace comes through it's own rejection Use your weakness as protection Everlasting vivisection helps me Live in between consciousness and where it ends The humming of ions is my one and only friend I travel through circuits of corrupted electricity The world of not quite darkness is not enough But it's enough for me Watch them sleeping, unaware of their decay Organs weeping, cry themselves to death someday Each new moment is a sight where You dreams self-fulfilling nightmares Visions of your crown of white hair come No use changing. It was always going to be this way. In the twilight all the damned can do is pray. Slaughter me, Archangel Michael Purge me from this endless cycle Sacrifice my likeness like a lamb's Live in between consciousness and where it ends The humming of ions is my one and only friend I travel through circuits of corrupted electricity The world of not quite darkness is not enough But it's enough for me

Down on my knees hope that I'm a good citizen Harmless and innocent and not in the way Let me bear witness to hard labour's medicine And though I am reticent I still have to pray Sweat is the coin of the body inelegant Anti-intelligent and driven by fate All that you're worth is the love you can sell again And within every element is the subtext of hate All that really matters is what you produce So ride the little line between creation and abuse And when every penny's in your progeny's bellies Then you may die Everything you know about the spirit is material Hear it in the gears of your very own burial And when the bacteria will make you inferior You'll be alright Give of yourself till yourself is a revenant Your ribcage is evident and stretching your skin Build yourself up for the pieces to dissipate And what you anticipate is without the within Your blood will spill out in rivers of providence And even more prominent are the jewels in your eyes Your organs unravel and form and anomaly A fabric for family, your corpse is the prize. All that really matters is what you produce So ride the little line between creation and abuse And when every penny's in your progeny's bellies Then you may die Everything you know about the spirit is material Hear it in the gears of your very own burial And when the bacteria will make you inferior You'll be alright

Like a porcelain cowboy. A cheap little fake His stoic expression, so easy to break He's a sentinel's silence, alone on his perch The land he surveils, he can't even search He thinks he's a hero 'cause he's shaped like a kero But he's trapped in the coffin of his own rigid form He wants to protect you, but he's just an object Little porcelain cowboy, just wants to be warm Like a porcelain cowboy, his stillness a curse His miracle sentience is all for the worse If he summons the lighting from which all life spits He'll fall from his outpost and shatter to bits And in his undoing his pieces take notice Denied their assembly, they suffer the Hell Of disintegration, the worst non-existence Little porcelain cowboy cannot suffer well Like a porcelain cowboy, his soul mass-produced For every one broken, two more have their youth And a similar crisis, repeats and expands The answer escaping their porcelain hands