#1
This is Protest the Hero's album Kezia. It's fictional, and about an execution. It shows three different point of views: the executioners, the priests, and Kezia's (the one who is to be killed). I think it's a masterpiece, and it's birlliant. If you listen to the music, and read the lyrics it really means something.
Kezia

Act 1: Priest

I'll burn all the lives of this angel illuminati
when St. Michael sized means find an end to justify
A belief to fortify this stained glass disgrace too beautiful to change
or perhaps too scared the truth behind our lies will be erased

A crusader begging for a crusade in which to die
where lead locusts pierce the the heart of men and tie the tongues of those who lie
cut the sinner, bleed redemption though the city streets
that resonate in prayers of this should never be

someone plunged a dagger deep into God's chest
when he groaned it laid our entire civilation to rest
and when he pulled out the dagger and marvelled at the pain he could create
we stuck another in his back to seal the creation's fate

so now we turn from wealth in the height of all our poverty
a call that renders me ageless turning the pages of a belief
that's greater than us all

amen to the fools an cossacks and the pulpits
amen to the people who think there's still a way to help us

They call me the man with the blood of Christ, honestly,
but tonight I drink with heathens and the finest of our blasphemies
in wine there's truth but in silence there's surrender
a screaming for the silence in stunned suspicious terror

Built a temple in my life and used God to seal the pillars
after twenty years of fighting young heretics and killers
I watched my temple fall to pieces (at the first sign of oncoming weather)
I fell to my knees just like Jesus in the cave
I knew i would die by my lips could only say:

"I am not your son so why have you forsaken me?"

There's a hole in my heart but it just makes me unholy.

Crucified that night and walked away with alter-ego
Like the prison priest who preaches his dead and buried gospel,
while my faith's in ruins my duty breathes strong.
I'm a parrot in a cage saying prayers to belong

To a textbook of my crying, lying, dying history;
a time so full of life that I was anything but me.

This morning there are no rods or staffs
to comfort you dressed as a target,
as you amble in your chains that lead to our make shift valley of death,
in the prison's backyard, where you'll give us your final breath.

Last night I saw you dine with lovers and human tears.
But glanced at me in ways that brought to life my sleeping fears

that today you'll bite my neck, today you'll bite my neck.

and peel away the aging skin,
expose the lifeless body, and the void
of divinity within ( I watched my temple fall to pieces).

So tell me when I've read your rights,
when the guns are in their place,
when your crime no longer seems absurd.

When your crimes are no longer absurd,
What will you say Kezia, when we ask what are your final words?

Act 2: Executioner

Place your justice in my palm and then I'll make a fist.
Punch your grimaced face until every knuckle breaks,
And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting.
A mangled body twitching and regaining
Consciousness and closure; attempting composure.
Before a bullet in the mouth answers the question of exposure.

And God, of sunday school facades,
And paychecks to validate the time I served abroad.

Well they say it all means nothing, if I forget why I'm here;
To serve and protect my fist over fist, mind under matter career.

That's why a man sounds kind of funny when he falls to his knees,
With his hands on his throat while begs you to please:

Spare his life, (Falls to his knees)
When he falls to his knees,
With his hands on his throat as begs you to please.
While I explain the hardest of bodies dulls the softest of knives,
Then I hold up this chin and carve X's in his eyes.

I swear I have compassion, I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life,
Because I'm the prison guard.

The day that civil glory dismembered my civility
I could have parted ribs and flesh like a different kind of Red Sea
Drowned the ancient east in western progress
Custom and the least of all our pride and sentiments
Which turned out to be the closest thing to a fashion trend
That's ever been bulletproof
Which turned out to be the closest thing to a fashion trend
That's ever been put on trial
The rest was cast off as denial of statehood and mastery;
The ultimate form of treason is the treacherous use of reason
Employed by the bastard sons of American fore-fathers who keep this fire burning
With the flesh of their would-be American daughters, daughters, daughters, daughters!!

What will happen to our children when the least of us pass on?
Us who fought the monsters of our country's crowded closet
Us who dropped the bombs on goodness when we saw it wasn't flawless
Us whose youthful life was hostage to what harm did
Us who fought the hardest to be swept under the carpet

And I'm still a cigarette softly smoking on the edge of a metal ashtray
I begged this place to let me burn, and it whispered, "burn away"

We woke up as men, but tonight we'll sleep as killers,
As we break the cryptic morning with a bullet and a prayer.
The steel never seemed so cold and agile
And the life never seemed less vital and fragile.

With a heart that's beating louder than my own,
I watch a girl they call Kezia.
I watch a woman that I know,
My hope and my own future blindfolded to atone (to atone)
A sin I didn't care for, but a sin that paid my debts.
A sin that fed my children; burned my smiles and cigarettes.

And no one ever said that hope would be so beautiful.
And no one ever said I'd have to pull the trigger on her.

I can't even still her trembling hands
That were locked up by the dutiful and the obligated.

Five soldiers, forever sedated
With the "No one's responsible" psychological drama
Of our social justice dribble (Dribble...)

Her tiny steps... (To resurrect...)
Tell lies about... (A static lifestyle...)
The choice... (To starve...)
I have... (To death...)
To make... (My own mistakes.)

So pull the screaming trigger, and watch your carcass bleed me dry,
Or drop the gun, and try to shake away the blindfold from your eyes.

Drop the gun! (Pull the!)
Drop the gun! (Screaming!)
Drop the gun! (Trigger!)
Drop the gun!
Bleh
#2
Act 3: Kezia

"Kezia, my darling, please never forget this world's got the substance of a frozen summer silhouette,"
Said my mother through lips that were cracked with love and toil
before she added, "the warmest of blankets is six feet of soil"
She had a perfume called Pride that smelled a lot more like Shame
When she walked into the room I was sleeping, heard her curse my father's name;
It was our situation, our position, our gender to blame
It was the lonely grey of my father's eyes staring back in the mirror's frame

"Mother, I'm shaking while I write because tonight I'll stay awake and breathe away my fright
There's a letter waiting for me that I have yet to read cause I know it's not from you
And you're the only one I need, I'm tired and I'm cold and I want to go to bed
But there's non one here to tuck me in, so the shotgun will instead"

Do you remember how it was when you bled?
When you loved and burned in those flames that you've kept
Because Vesta's long been sleeping
And now you've come to accept that
Your anatomy defines more than a few of the gaping holes in our social fabric
And it defines more than a few one night stands,
more than a few prison bars melted into wedding bands

We've made you all the peasants and we've made ourselves the kings
Our queens are still subordinate as an angel without wings
We make it easy to belong which means it's easy to be wrong
"Put some plastic in your tits, and you'd look better as a blonde"

I remember when you were hopeful
And you never thought your life would be lived inside a coffin
With a moral sacrifice and a million social obligations, labels and expectations
You were young and modern seventeen in vogue and vague pursuit of a cosmopolitan dream
When you bled on the bed as you fed those expectations as a ***** and not a human
You embraced with hesitation the parameters of all you can be
Not a mother, not an aunt, not a sister who's not subdued
Because dignity's not physical and your flesh means more than you
Your flesh means more than you; your flesh means more than you
Your flesh means more than you; your flesh means more than you
I know we'll wake up one day with a gun to the back of our brains
You'll be asking for your rib and I'll smile and call you brave
Maybe someday when this bloody skull has dried I'll know our city is in ruins
And the greatest source of pride is a monument of dicks and ribs and gender crowns we wore
Where underneath, a plaque will read, "No woman is a *****"

Better think of my answers now because I know the questions with be asked
Like if I brought the joy I found in the confessions of a mask
The tip of my tongue's already touching the top of my mouth
It's meaning manifest in mercy burning down the house
It's true that tactless teem totem-poles turn tolerance to tired taboos
It's true that a bullet never knocks on the door, it's about to come crashing through
Walking one last mile in big steps as your alter-wine
Doing it in tattered shoes that aren't even mine
Because my own are in a box locked up with possessions I can't have
Like the gunman with his future and the prison priest's golden calf

Blindfolds aside I'd probably still close my eyes
And try to feel a trembling fetal life inside that shotgun barrel that's about to make me bleed
Like an ulcer in the stomach of the beast
Like a little girl on a bed that was years ago deceased
Resurrected last night with a letter she can't trace
Resurrected to be killed and maybe born again
I'll always be Kezia so long as any hope remains

FINALE

Don't ever ask us to define our morals
Sometimes when fundamentals meet teenage heartbreak
Some of us are all of us; half-selves that love whole hopes
And hara-kiri heartbreak

There's almost nothing worse than never being real
Strained voices crying wolf when nobody can hear
If I had a gun I'd pump your ethics full of lead
If I believed in meat I'd eat a plateful of our dead

There's merit in construction when it's done with your own hands
There's beauty in destruction, resurrection, another chance
There's a you and I in union but just an I in our beliefs
There's a crashing plane with a banner that reads everyone's naïve

The only proof that I have that we shot and killed this horse
Is the sounds of whips on flesh and a bleeding heart remorse
When I'm In this state of reflection and you hand me whips
And two by fours I could never bring them down and beat the same horse as before

I'd rather kill a stupid flower and spread its seeds around
Until a garden with our bullet-laden morals will be found
Bleh
#3
And atleast read some of it before commenting, and don't put, "I was too lazy to read it, lolzorz!!1!"
Bleh
#4
Well there was plenty of good writing in there but there was also a whole bunch of fat that needs to be cut out.

I think whats cool about it is the sense of time that you get from it. Like the first act i had this picture of medievil times in my head up to the last paragraph. Then the second it mentions guns then soldiering then i linked it to Iraq or just war in general.. That subject just bugs me now; to overdone....Last act talks about society and morals. Have to say again....to overdone.

But besides the content the reading was good..Some of it needs to be cut like the obvious stuff...

Lastly im probably not the best critic for this kind of song since i like my wording in my songs to be short and sharp...Some good lines though.
#7
Quote by Ellron
Well there was plenty of good writing in there but there was also a whole bunch of fat that needs to be cut out.

I think whats cool about it is the sense of time that you get from it. Like the first act i had this picture of medievil times in my head up to the last paragraph. Then the second it mentions guns then soldiering then i linked it to Iraq or just war in general.. That subject just bugs me now; to overdone....Last act talks about society and morals. Have to say again....to overdone.

But besides the content the reading was good..Some of it needs to be cut like the obvious stuff...

Lastly im probably not the best critic for this kind of song since i like my wording in my songs to be short and sharp...Some good lines though.

It's not about any situation in real life. ie. Iraq. It's a moral, it's not relating to anything in real life. It's just teaching a lesson.
Bleh