1. |
'round the bend
02:16
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2. |
Larry Reina
07:36
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Plant in womb and prepare to harvest seed
of invention with fictional technologies
and intentions of performing the implausible.
Doctor Larry Riena was a genius inventor
he was always thinking forward,
but he never had the head to ever...
Constantly distracted
by his indecisive actions
took a dull knife to his life
and he spread it too thin
Oh, where was I...?
Panic struck the platform of nonexistence
bypassing the third person view of the first vision
something-something called attention
to the number of corpses...
There were torsos in the cupboard
severed fingers in the oven
broken legs kicking
and a jaw in the kitchen that wailed...
Please don't kill me doctor
I want to live and prosper
You made me a monster.
He made people place and thing
but failed to see the evil in
never fully finishing
He took out the knife
he used to spread his life too thin
He sharpened it and he
shoved it in...
Please, don't kill me..
Please don't kill me doctor
I want to live and prosper
You made me a monster.
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3. |
Neurofiend
04:07
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4. |
Everydead
05:34
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There I stumbled, back into the same simple
scenario where patches of peeling leaden
paint presented a portrait of perfect ashen
drab concrete beneath what was once a
colorful facade.
As the clock calmed to candles, cold crept
curiously across an already agitated air of
aggression.
Heading down a hall, hoping to
find a hiding place, I heard a voice say, "Hello".
There, a horrifying hospitality held out her
hand for me. They call me "Merillo" she said.
As her bloodless and breathless lips began to
break before me as a sense of impeding doom
settled softly into sections of subconcious
similies.
Wandering words willed no worth,
but Lucifer's laugh could be heard laying latent
in her lungs.
Her decaying hand crumbled in mine, and I
couldn't help but say aloud, "I'm certainly
charmed to meet you, but come to think of it,
you do look rather dead".
As I thought to myself, "Could this be just a
scary slip of my senses?", I sadly supposed that
I was most surely mistaken. This morbid
meeting was no mere mirage, but rather a
real deathly date with the dearly departed.
This chilling conclusion raised concerns about
the corpse like qualities among the rest of the
crowd. My damning dilemma became
dreadfully delicate, but I dare say, I demanded
to know, Do the dead know they're dead?
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5. |
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6. |
Cidergust
04:37
|
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Cast in tender
to shatter the likeness
of a burning bridge
but a well can't will.
The love of disgust
is beginning to rust
fermenting air is turning to dust.
I'm crouching to leap
away from the creeps
that bury me deep in denial.
Constructing foundations
constricted by patience.
Striking sensations
are tinged with frustrations.
Thank God for the breeze
re-re-turn-turning
the brain to the body
and just in time...
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7. |
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