Autochthonic (Spoken Word/Post-Rock/Screamo)
 

I
I surveryed my seven fields
Reaping my own potential
My self defined conditions of possiblity

I own my own fate
I own my own mid
I own my own fate

I've got my head wrapped around this
Like her sedan on that telephone pole

We're wasting sunlight
We're tempting anxiety
Flirting with terror
Enticing dread
Panic cracks the glass
Pressure shreds concious
We'll finally sleep tonight

II
Linguistic fallacy is irrevelant
He won't last the night anyway
He can't last
Swell out and off and on
Uncertainty its permanence

Down and off at 21st
Ends without means
And a flat line is joy

With steady breath
Sharing blunted rage
One through the monochrome

They bang on the glass and shine lights at my face
When I cover my ears, If I turn away
Avoid the rubber fingers
Until I don't remember
Why my eyes still see

Pinch and the slag is in my neck
The flames give way

He won't last the night anyway

III
Condemn the id
Rejection as absolution
A noose tied to depravity

Abjection is freedom
Corporeality conceptual

We're all just David
Young boys throwing stones
in the face of Leviathan
Misguided apostates
Burning their sacred dream

The word's a lie
False hope for escape
A temporal construction
Perpetuating his own needs

We will wrest out duree from this monstrosity
Rejecting abjection as the foundation of corporeality
There's no honor in this horror

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