misery messiah, singing to the choir
sentiment'll set you free, reset your dream
is a revolutionary really necessary?
just another creature with the craft of kings
keep it dark and scary,
the thunder and the light-en-ing,
acceptably a-fright-en-ing to the sightless
the message is the medium
obsequious tedium;
lifeless.

Prima Materia

"Mayhaps the master is a masochist, sisyphus
mayhaps the man's immaculate
either way, this aster is a massive hit
at the establishment
The mastery of elements
elevate the celebrant
susurrations emanate from their envelopment
in glorious empathogens," the passage ends
No system of government could ever represent
the cycle of somnambulance in psychologic adamants
devoted to the definite
at infinite expense
Assuming one is genuine becomes a risk,
a calculation entered in
is it better to surrender?
Or render them to cinders?
God forbid the system live, nectar in sieve,
the dredge of what the schism gives us,
and the schism gives us a dose of potion, dose of lip,
so do forgive us
for having lack of what our betters,
and make believing something better
where we all play together,
your power is severed, forever

It is more than it seems;
It is all that we dreamed

Prima Materia

Psychotic arhythmic, Machiavellians
Have a seat. Shut your hellions
I pray that you obtain
The daoist way of human pain, now
I admittedly cashed out,
Dropped acid - I'm starting to crash now
Past that, lets fuck wit it mask out, suck on this 
trash, in succulent pastel,
Pontificating upon a parody
Honorific adversary apparently
(Is) Scared a my shit, says I'm given to heresy,
Well listen, I'm afraid I'm a couple of pages 
Past, writing lyrical therapy, getting gas
As the cynical stare at me, cutting my skin, 
For the sin of celerity, the fuckin' barbarity, seems 
Strange to see sages 
strapped with such terrible clarity, 
revenants backed by a sacch'rine polarity, 
havin a chat, Thinkin' "better to stare at these
Ass-backword plats than have a classical verity get cracked"
But stacked, under stress singularity,
Magnification, applied dextarily:
Coagulation, of unmixed barony
Blood been tearing it up, and not sterilely, see
Christ is a blueprint, no illusions
Choose to groove, to the fusion, prove that
doom on the quantum, Don't try to cop some, 
zune fulla wampum, tomb of vedanta
You woulda dumped him, cried Jude and then stomped him,
Whole crew woulda jumped him, 
Coup, for the sunset
Truth that the gunshot youth
Is a victim of you 
Now.

Into ribbons, cut your faith.
Not too late, not too late;
Who's forgiven, who forsakes?
Not too late, not too late;
Hindu visions, apostates.
Not too late, not too late;
Superstitions in the sage;
Not too late...

I'm fuckin sick of the synonyms,
Stuttering hypocrites an minutemen
Shooting their dicks, gettin the ritalin
To innocents, eyes blue from the cinnamon hue, now
The fuck you envisioning?
This imminent hell's hella limiting
'Stead of dithering, go widdershins,
Smoke prescience, toke ambivalence
Disseminate reverence,
Incentivize eminence
Consign this erudite elegance
To the tribe of a terrified audience
Prophesied in a mess of blind providence
Verified by the hive intelligentsia,
What the left/right represents to ya 
Matters not cuz you ain't got status (oh, savage)
Damn it's a whole fuckin mood.
Can't stand, but ya know it's fuckin true
Let em come for ya, let em through
Take a hint from the motherfuckin youths,
Simply surrender till the system is on lock
Is this mission from your maker? Does it satisfy your cock? Well,
There's somethin better now. Something deeper.
Somethin heavy for the heavy fuckin sleepers. 
Something powerful. Something real.
Something shocking that'll sock you in the feelers.
Something genuine, and attuned,
Like a venue in the center of a room.
Never needed Anck-Su-Namun,
Cuz you already doomed.

Sage

guitar by surfmurder https://soundcloud.com/surfmurder
photo by Ben T. Daniel 

As the daylight falls,
Passion overcomes young Persephone
What will it be?
You'd refuse the call?
If that were true, you
Simply would step into the light...
You're in the right.

Something else compels you.
Don't know what to tell you,
You are alive.
Open your eyes.

Feel it in every skin cell
Sight sound and flavor and smell
My senses tingle at the thought
Easy does it, breathe it deep
Tune to the frequency
Of free.

Feel it in every skin cell
Sight sound and flavor and smell
My senses tingle at the thought
Easy does it, breathe it deep
Tune to the frequency
Of free.

The Shadow

muse, postal service, aesop rock

patreon.com/anthromancy

Anthromancer

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