1. |
Star Swallowed
03:16
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She’s grabbing, inhaling
More please to dull her pain
A wildless wilderness
Has crashed her pampered brain.
Furnace with a cold heart,
Feels but can’t know her core,
Distracted, misses her part,
Eats without knowing: what for?
Driving the same circuit,
Loveless now, she can’t fit,
Witless now, she can’t cut.
Now, she can only make shit.
She looks back wondering,
Oh, what she left behind,
She looks back wondering,
Devours her behind.
Chorus:
A star swallowed herself,
Weaving the wild weave,
A star swallowed herself,
And now the ice won’t melt.
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2. |
Chaos
03:28
|
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In the abaetern age, before the bang,
Infinite ideas were tightly at rest,
In a light trap, vortex, once called Chaos,
The original face of the cosmos.
All existed in a dark, dense disk.
All was nothing, nothing something.
Gravity was the only expression,
And the audience was the expression.
As other facets of the bulb bloomed,
Where an ultra-soul may hover over the over.
Spinning an eye, a passage came to be,
Where one, two, three, ten thousand broke free.
Chorus:
Before earth and sea and sky,
All was one.
Before space and time,
And light of the sun,
Before phenomenon,
Oblivion,
Before Sophia sighed,
All was one.
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3. |
Sophia
03:20
|
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Through the eye, Sophia's sigh,
A path: wisdom, a lens: prism,
Everything, nothing, something…one
Splits in two, a queen, a king.
The bang, the bloom, the cosmic womb,
Mother's father, father's mother,
Differentiation, distinction,
An equally divine direction.
Birth, a cosmic renaissance,
In knowledge and in ignorace,
Mindfulness and insouciance,
All projections of Providence.
Chorus:
The Other born from the One torn,
Before: neither, after: either,
From dark to light or black to white,
Both, again neither, all take flight.
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4. |
Labyrinths
03:04
|
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As the shadows,
Random tableaus,
Roll across the wall,
My fetters fall.
I discover
Faith and fire.
No longer a slave,
I leave the cave.
Drinking soma,
Je ne sais quoi,
Octave of light,
Just full moon sight.
Faith’s unstable,
An aberration,
In variable
Manipulation.
Under a rainbowed,
Round ball of flame,
In vernal mode,
Lighting my frame,
Light’s dark; black’s white.
In Eos Nyx,
Wrong may be right.
All contradicts.
The divine dark,
Beyond remark,
That too bright light,
Land of foresight,
There is no map,
No procedure.
Absolutes trap.
It’s all conjecture.
Chorus:
My thoughts dance
In a Daedal
Kaleidoscope
Dadal casino.
|
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5. |
Convenient Complexity
03:47
|
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Convenient complexity tosses the world,
From crest to crest, trough to trough,
Rough, wrecked, riddled real reasons,
Insane inquiry, excruciating explanations,
With a required reliance
On relativity.
Traveling in a circle to move in a straight line,
Stopping and standing simply because of some sign.
Actors and actresses playing parts
Spelled out by company policy,
Bureaucratic bombardment
And booboisie baloney.
And the world’s in the box, under the tree.
No ribbon, no pomp, no gaiety.
Packing paper brown,
UPS stamped sideways
Trimmed thinly in dust,
In a house of credit cards,
Owned by corporate conmen
Through company connections.
…bull shit…
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6. |
Inside-Out
01:15
|
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Inside,
where my feet splick-splack,
come unstuck from the floor,
beneath street sounds,
jackhammers,
bus breaks,
tires over loose steel and uneven asphalt,
that throb under the roof,
bouncing bodies wall to wall,
My little brother is legally a man,
chest to nose
with a lump of fried ice-cream
held back,
throat gently
between my forearm and bicep,
while its tan,
flaky
hand
still stung
from the not so gentle
touch
of a perfumed
cheek.
“Don’touchme.”
Bouncing bodies bound betwee-
“Don't ev’r touch me,”
as I play charades,
“Napoleon, right?”
Outside,
I stand
in the center of his
circlesquare.
“Neow wut, bigman?”
“Huh?”
“Wut neow!”
“Oh…a…"
“…Napoleon?”
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7. |
It Ain't Ideal
03:01
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My fantasy,
Walking barefoot in the sand,
Two together, hand in hand.
Her eyes, soft and clear,
Tell me to stop and hold her near.
Wrapped tight in a soft sea breeze,
She pushes me back, a rough release.
She laughs,
As a damn seagull shits on my head.
My fantasy,
To have the ear of the world,
Respect from the, meek and bold,
To stand, at the top,
To make, with each hint, people hop,
Have all the things that make kings,
But in time, it all always just brings,
A tear,
As I find my neck fit for the block.
Chorus:
Even in my dreams,
In my heart,
Stitches and seams,
From the start,
Life is real;
It ain’t ideal.
|
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8. |
Magic Shadow Show
02:21
|
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Things in and out, above, about, below
Are nothing more than a magic shadow show,
Played in a box, with its candle the sun,
Around which we phantom figures go.
And, if the wine we drink, the lips we press
End in the nothing all things end in, yes?
Believe in what we are, we are but what?
We'll all be no-thing, we won't be less.
Chorus:
Reality is a fantasy.
Free the soul.
From the cage of delusion, fly free.
Reality is a fantasy.
Free the soul.
Banish all nightmares of misery.
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9. |
Epiphany
02:36
|
|||
Come along, follow the wagon,
Jump, holler and dance,
Entranced by rhythm
Of the band.
Must we go with faces that scream
For safety, security and stability,
While freedom lies
Lame…dying.
|
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10. |
Bags of Bones
03:08
|
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Frames before, frames behind,
Bags of bones, beckon, beg,
Infect my sex, infect my flesh
With big beats, sweet deceits,
Unhatched schemes, unknown vasts,
Decayed dreams, faded pasts,
Enchantments, entrapments,
Merriments, monuments.
Fleshless bones will dance,
Cheek to cold protrusion,
Shuffle, hold, shaky stance,
Swaying through bitter brew.
Dance under the frame’s spell.
“Slow dance,” skeletons yell.
Dance under the frame’s spell.
“Sad,” you say. You say well.
Bones have names, fortune, fame,
Future acclaim. Bones are chains.
Bones have names, pride, grudges,
Drunken judges, loosened reigns.
Bones have names, future, past,
Dreaming gas, fueless flames.
Bones have names. Bones are chains.
Frames before, frames behind,
Bags of bones, beckon, beg,
Slyly seduce, softly enclose,
In shadows and afterglows,
Desires, misgivings,
Mud mires, false forgivings,
Bleary sight, fears and spite,
Illusive sprites, furtive blights.
Fleshless bones will dance,
Cheek to cold protrusion,
Shuffle, hold, shaky stance,
Swaying through bitter brew.
Dance under the frame’s spell.
“Slow dance,” skeletons yell.
Dance under the frame’s spell.
“Sad,” you say. You say well.
Mad, pray tell? Tell me well.
|
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11. |
Coming to Terms
03:07
|
|||
Ponies prancing,
Stopping, jumping to point.
Castles floating
Over the clouds behind.
I'm floating below,
Long lost my last handhold,
Forgot about
The grip I'll never find.
I'm free. No one
Can tell me how to be,
Like a naked hippy
On Haight Ashbury.
No obstructions
Block my horizon.
No concerns
Clutter my heart, my mind.
Wind torn, not wanton,
No compromising,
Directionless,
Not misguided, not blind.
I wander with
Method and madness,
Mysterious,
No home, no address.
Chorus:
Coming to terms...coming to terms...
Without gravity...without gravity...
Coming to terms...coming to terms...
Coming to terms...coming to terms...
Without society...without society...
Coming to terms...coming to terms...
|
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12. |
Gathering Wool
01:51
|
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13. |
Awake
02:01
|
|||
Awake, awake.
Cause morning’s killed the night,
Thrown stones to put the stars to flight.
Hey look!
A cowboy in the east has caught…
What?!
A politician’s purse in a noose of light.
Dreaming…
Dreaming as dawn’s left hand was in the sky,
I heard a voice inside the bar cry,
He said,
“Wake up and fill your cup!”
Why?
“Because life’s liquor, it runs dry.”
“It’s almost time!”
And as the cock crew, those who stood before
“Last call!”
The bar yelled, “Open the door!”
You know,
“We don’t have long to stay,”
You know,
“We might not return no more.”
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Nom Bizarre Chicago, Illinois
Beatnik funk with a synthy-pop art-rock streak...
After several years of playing around
with many artists, known and unknown, a songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and sometimes singer named Darryl Pierson decided it was time to go by his real name for a change. He also figured it was high time he learned to do everything his-own-damn self, which was a lot harder than it initially sounded...
... more
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