#1
I wrote this last spring and just sort of found it again. The idea is that each part would be a different song, part of a greater whole (maybe a "concept EP" or something of the sort).

I.
The siren song is a potent one, an anthem that we rise and sleep to each and every day.
Sweet seduction, intoxication, deified by ancient texts.
We let it wash over us, hijack our minds, we may as well have gouged out our eyes.
What need have we for observation, when we’re taught to blindly accept?
Accept this instead.
Never was there a day when we were free of sin, yet we have the audacity to point fingers at our kin.
Swearing by creation myths will never make them true, yet we press on, our hands stained red and blue.
We’ll never find a peace of mind if we continue down this trail.


II.
I’ve lived through these days of material gain, I’ve seen how our money absolves us of pain.
A fake set of tits and a Botox smile, plastic is plastic and it’s going out of style.
To absorb, not reflect, was a cardinal sin, now my only light is that from within.
Call me ungrateful, tell me I’m thankless; you couldn’t be more spot-on.
All the vices and wealth in the world will not keep me feeling alive.
Whatever I have is never enough - in fact, it’s far too much.
All I want from this life is to feel that way again.


III.
We’ve built ourselves up so high.
Ladders to heaven, tunnels to hell, chasing divinity in all climes.
Blood and grime beneath our nails, our tear-streaked faces attest to the times.
We are dying; we are dying; we are dying; we are dying.
From the day we were born, we’ve multiplied, now we find ourselves prepared to divide.
If this life‘s taught me something, it’s to never swear by the sun.
These days it’s nothing more than a lifeless husk.
Slowly sinking below the horizon like all of our hopes and dreams.
We’re falling apart at the seams.


IV.
Throw the scraps to the wolves.
Let them feast upon the flesh of liars and thieves; let them tear us limb from limb.
Leave us to bleed, leave us to bleed.
With nothing to my name, with nothing left to give, they went ahead and took my name from me.
They shaved my head, they bound my wrists, they broke my spirit, cut my lips.
They left us to bleed, we emptied our hearts; they left us unnamed, we instead wore our marks.
Razor wire and dirty windows remind me of a time when we were all named and known.
But we gave it all away; now we waste away.
We gave it all away and now we waste away.


V.
The last dove flies straight and true, though streaked with blood like me and you.
He glistens not with hope but pain, spilling blood like scarlet rain.
He waters the soils long since left barren, bleak as the future of man.
They now lay dying upon the ground, their eyes turned toward the blackened sky,
Awaiting the return of their lord, their savior.
But I know he’s not coming, not now, not ever.
I can’t blame him. I, too, gave up on us long ago.