Dark Lyrics


1. The Ladder

This crowd: a fleshy lake. The throngs as smallish waves, folds like skin upon the sow. A faint din as spit and speech caw- the rank broth that stews while boiled alive.

“Who are you to cast your net so wide, and deepen the maw? Cannibal, your hooks blood deep in hide. This too shall pass. You’ll find yourself at last.”

Couldn’t anyone else have tried to carve their hold? The mark of hands. Couldn’t anyone else have climbed the bones of old? The bridge of man, its steps cobbled stones from sand. One way mirror, cracked and leering, watch us crawl.

A coarse ascension, a vulgar dream dragged kicking back to the floods. A crass intrusion: the eyesore tower was crashed by swarms… a herd of cackles, a school of flesh that scorns the touch.

“The only face that scorns this fate is ours: self same, ripe to faint. Once down, the stench, the taint. So raise the eyesore tower. We’ll raze the rows we felled. When stayed the hand of storms, down poured the fruit of arms.”

2. Salieri

I’d promised to go, but now that it’s time, the scene of what I’d missed is haunting me through tattered blinds.

“Lift your eyes from above. Let your life flow out.”

Born from resistance, and plagued by irreverence, the burden of a slow memory’s remnants. Awaken in moments and search for the relevance. The instance fades and leaves me no change.

It wouldn’t seem like such a blow if only minds could be renewed as well as bone, if only years could all be hewn as well as stone.

A burst of color and dismay rends a draped malaise which, maligned as it may, still offers up a sanctum’s peace. A cloven hoof crawls for the hobbled. The forked tongue croaks the call of the dumb.

What passes over when heads are steeped, neck deep, in the drolls cast off by the shrugging arms, the wading mass, the sludge so thick all limbs are lamed? Still we waddle all the same. Cast off all my weight.

“So cast your light away. They’ll shine your light out.”

This bleeding erupted from the sores of wasted gods. The tension was broken by bloodied fists and open arms. The meaning destructed in solitude and fits of calm. Residing in daydreams, you’ll only feel it once it’s gone.

One day, and one chance to fail one day. You’ll never screw this again, so take it all the way and dig through your grave.

3. Fool's Errand

As it all falls down, and everything burns, the meek have their day. It seems you’ve found your way down. Slip into this void. This longing brought suffering. We speak in bitter tongues.

A stone is the crux of a wall. Its burden lies in weight.

Lowly, we bask in omens, and dream of what reality was. Beholden to a paradise broken, dream of what reality was. Slowly, we bend so slowly. As we descend the walls that seem so sloped call forth my way. We bend so slowly. I won’t stay or carve my name.

You were tied to the weight of this failure. We sink in through reverie.

In quiet moments I prayed for this day. In weaker moments I rued this day. In desperation I gave way. What would I do to be rid of this? Head down, back to wind, what would I do?

Forget this weight. This day was yours to take, heads down, backs to the wind, beating back the deluge endlessly. We need something to hold as the light fades away

4. Wisp Of Tow

5. Ocean Of Water

This horizon ties your hands. Pray for mercy as you sink below.

Through the thunder, until the rain falls, we’re alone.

Look at the way she stares. You want to make her suffer. Bury your face in sand. Keep it smothered. Hurry, avert your eyes and hold them still. Dig deep your lines. Stop your breathing.

No words, only sound. Slow steps. Heed no one. No heat, only shrouds.

The elders sway. The cowards fall. They couldn’t find a way. No hope or fear of floating. No one for you to know. They couldn’t find a way.

Through the thunder, until the rain falls, we’re alone. Through the sandstorm, until the soil floods we’re as bone. I’m an island. I built my wall’s stone too tall. Wait upon your shore. Maybe there sails an escape for you.

So you race to the end, and then you hurtle towards another one. So you pray for the wind. Then you race to the end. I’m through counting.

6. It's Always Worthwhile Speaking To A Clever Man

7. Fleshmaker

A mirthsome gold; these lives you hold you’ll hide away. The lidless casket, the guilded lining, shines in the old light, gleams in the muted bay. These lines have been etched in bone, carved and faded, stretched as taut as stone. Draped across the moonlit base, a mirrorbed reflects the faces bright in the moment, wide and awake with fright. Seared by the scorchlight, lives are worth we’ll trade.

We couldn’t cower too quickly. We couldn’t bear to brave the gaze of the end. And when the creep of flames engulf the all, you’ll swallow them whole. You’ll intake this bile, and you’ll reap what I’ve soiled, what you’ve sown. So have the stilted grown.

Bury me in all the filth and shame, and all the moments filled with them. It’s all the same. I’ll give it away. I’ll taint my flesh and you’ve naught but hell to taste. Tear it away. The rot is palpable. The waft escapes.

The bread we broke sustaining you. The blood, you choked, the draining flu. No sign that anyone knew. Gods you hunger, so tear us wide and eat your fill.

You look so tired. I couldn’t save for you some raw meat. Your limbs are wires, but all I have for you is thawed. You’ll get your means. You’ve earned these seeds. Now when you salivate you’ll bleed. Drawn to the stench of plebes who dulled their sheen to match a hope we couldn’t feel.

This is all we are: a listless gold, the lifeless old, frail in the moment, scared as the eyes reveal their sheen. Be careful what you hold. The flesh has turned, your wretch was earned. Bright in the moment, wide and awake with fright, seared by the scorchlight, our lives are worth we trade.

8. Maybe I'm Malaised

9. A Long Defeat

“Scribe quickly your name, and stay to the right. Your script is curved. It’s inclination hooks and spurts as if rushed to the end. We’ll see… This is only a glimpse. Still, you’ve kept your head down. Where are you hiding? And are you weak? Are you afraid? Did you creep each step aghast, skirting shadows, or is it what I seek?”

You called to pound the door with pointed hand, but we would burn the house. We barred the doors with guilt and bone, still we might burn the house. We would burn this house of ill regard. Cathedral eyes were sewn to bind. You won’t storm the house. We would burn the house. My temple, I’ve mortared lock and key alike. All’s buried, naught to find.

What am I now, torn in two? The illusion of me becomes and confronts you. What am I, split in two? What’s left of me will retreat from this empty knowledge. We’ll weed out what we don’t know.

I’ve cut my loss and severed a thought from mind. It plummets like a stone, and glaring back from depths to heights, will torch the night. Retreat from this empty knowledge. Weed out what we don’t know. Retreat from this broken logic. Lost in what we do not know, we’ll weed out what we don’t know.

The road that lay forward was paved with my fears. I tore at the open floor. I scurried away, and down. Call out to the open floor. Call out to the words that bind us whole. Call out from the weighted floor. Call out to the guards before us all. Call out to the way.

The wound was cauterized. Burn my way and throw me off to the gate. Come fire. Come flame. Come home. Burn my way. These days were a waste. Come fire. Come flame. The weight of a sin’s thick fog. Come fire. Come flame. Burn my way. And after all these words I couldn’t break away from its hold. Weed out what we don’t know.

Shadows are fading. The burnt walls are crumbling. The old guard is changing. We won’t look down, where we’ve aimed for. Not before my eyes, but hidden behind my back, and grasped with blood in claw. My soul possessions are scant. Withdraw your hands. I’ve set my share alight.

What’s beneath this? The husk is wrapped; its form flawed. We’ll pry the fingers back each bone from bone, all ashen, crumbled away. False. The rest is soot and blown off. We won’t wait. Fall. What we’ve come digging for is dead and cold. We couldn’t wait for the beatings.

10. Gordian Corridor

11. Handshake In Your Mouth

The distant mock of warmth: an aftertaste of the bodies’ greeting collision. You’ll never feel that again.

I thought I saw a rising tide dissolving the streets, and leaving blank shores. I strained to hear the distant waves encroaching, eroding wood and home.

I can’t recall the sound of footsteps, the scent of skin. It washed away with the taste of ashes. I grind my teeth but it’s gone.

As we walk, we’ll pass through the last of night, sick with dust and smiles. The mock of warmth: you’ll never feel that again.

12. Don't Stop Bereaving

13. Beasteater

Built on high, the scaffold’s walls are hinged to the fold. The step slopes downward for none. Their aims ran steep. So where, then, must you have tryst? A crane of the neck- your crooked eyes rose to rest where the loft hung.

The weight you’ve sweat here will not lighten your load. It gnaws on fragments of your tired soul. Your line: an arc for progress. Your sky: a roof. Your gate is closed. The way for you is plowed. The cart you pull is culled from your bones.

In darkness ashes coat your lungs. In silence there is only defeat. Wisdom to you now is but a burden. The breeze that broke you came from your throat.

No ire can keep burning. No wrath is wrought by the lowly. A slow step and you’ve only to wait until, claws bent, mind fogging, the next wind will topple you wholly. Cold mire, deep sopping… climb up and pull your load.

The waves all broke, and sovereigns tend the falls. The tide broke, a cloven splash, and sovereigns tend the falls as if rising again and again to be chopped at the knees was a gift.

The impetus will fade with dusk. You sorrel nag, your coat is blood and rust.

Submits, comments, corrections are welcomed at webmaster@darklyrics.com


- Privacy Policy - Disclaimer - Contact Us -