Dark Lyrics


1. A Foot In Each Grave

generations intersect,
force fed their own demise.
divide the worth, among the starved,
gorge upon the scythe.
demons flow through aged abode,
decrepit conscious home.
foundations set in concrete wet,
ground from babies' bones.

drain the contents of the skulls
with structure and possession.
the working hearts and rugged backs
lined up without question.
a righteous task, to give what's asked,
an ignorance so splendid.
dig two graves, with the will you've saved,
live a life that's ended.

lured by the promise of nothing
impaled on the spike of time

tried to defy, know reasons why,
the luck's always the same.
set out to show, make others know,
there's pleasure in the pain.
depths of mind, no truth is kind,
the laughter in your face.
drains the will, you're nothing still,
a bitter old disgrace.

dreading eyes in a dirtied mirror,
begging to relent.
the wealth of wisdom cherished so,
now is nearly spent.
what use is this, the gift of sight,
with nothing left to see?
squandered all that brought us here,
the book's too long to read.

2. The Foreman's Face

a prideful man, eager for work,
strips an engine bare.
attaches custom parts designed
for an application rare.
the diesel builds the pressure up
with canisters in place.
gas flows through the shower heads
and digs two hundred graves.

the humble man, knows only work,
walks the factory.
leathered hands, still diesel soaked,
weave alloyed tapestries.
makes his home, between the lakes,
rust belt utopian.
lives life of grievous good
the true demise of men.

fiction held in modern thought,
translates into loss.
gone, the sense of real dread
so common to the cost.
disappear in boredom's breadth,
safety lurks on every street.
a fortress of cadaver walls,
pay the price of purity.

think of what can make a man,
and of what men are made.
beings chained to circumstance,
the choices they forgave.
when smiles cloak atrocities,
and the screams of millions dead
are shrieking songs of dying throngs
going through the foreman's head.

3. Dead Peasants

drained of all your meaning
virtue laid out in wake
modern serfdom propagated
workers stare with blinkered eyes
tacit subterfuge abysmal
shameless corporate profiteers
worth that's taken from you
lucre from the lowest man.

gleaning monies exponential
slaves of service, peasants dead
locked in greed subsistence
cash from death seems quite alright.
no right god to pray to
greenback idols fill the void
kill before the market leaves you
gild your scalps for all to see.

domineering, parasitic
scheming rich men live to take
grovel for the crumbs they give you
thank them for the chance to eat.

4. The Imp Of The Perverse

scholars lost in matters grey
adhere to scripture's law.
elated by the tendency
to see a man do wrong.
redundant studies paralyze
narrow foresight reigns,
when those who crave
to rape and kill are
slaves to human brains.

standing at the precipice
to feel the piercing thrill.
knowing that you couldn't stop
if you possessed the will.
murder for the joy of blood
and ease of simple gain.
craven opportunal lust,
a portrait of the sane.

atonement for the scum within
surrender those who'll do you in.
drawn into the sacrifice
bleeding out on the altar of vice.

jesters prance around the court
leaving dignity in tatters.
their foolish kings are set to judge
invoke a justice shattered.
solitude, my enemy
how cunning you've become.
closing cell doors rack my thoughts
my will, a knot undone.
daggered stares subsuming time
cycloptic slumber fate.
iniquity consuming me
the lightning surely waits.
theories suspect, conjured blind
beg to be impugned.
burden of my conscious mind
bleeding like his wounds.
standing on the cliffs again
in truth's abyss I plunge.
perverse the joke pulled on us all
own the guts I spill, for once.

5. Excision

soaking in idolatry,
thrown upon the stage.
acting parts that never work,
just seem to fit the age.
recreation had its place,
when times lacked consequence.
infernal schemes
for drowning dreams
are primed with arrogance.

never will I wonder
what it's like to die.
mired in the woes of man,
too blind to be denied.
seduced by premonition,
an evil held so nigh.
another slave of substance,
essence priced to buy.

I've done my mother's
heart no good,
with sordid acquisitions.
a faulty cast,
entrenched in past
societal demolitions.
confined at times,
by hopeless lines,
dividing man from malice.
embracing all that shouldn’t be,
find my arms have calloused.

another slave of substance,
essence priced to buy.
funny that I never wondered,
what it's like to die.
seduced by premonition,
an evil held so nigh.
too mired in the woes of man,
too blind to be denied.

lately, I have wondered
what it's like to die.
freedom from the woes of man,
a vision from outside.
seduced by only nothing,
the fear that's held so nigh.
a casualty of substance,
the peace you cannot buy.

gangrenous body and soul,
heart scarred from elation.
lie there rotting on the couch,
deadened by sensation.
paralyzed in static white,
flickered television.
succumbing to the lack of feel,
no lonelier excision.

6. Waltz For A Marionette

return me to the gaze,
inspired and profane.
ideal face remains,
subdued by whims in chains.

take me from this place my dear
this mattress stained,
walls cracked and bare.
to lessons wrought with ecstasy,
a carnal sense nearer to thee.

constructed from a farce
beautifully lined with vacant hearts
poisoned by your beauty still
desire bathed in lupine swill.

I watched the dream turn to dust,
waited for the smoke to clear.
I never cared for that good girl much,
or smile you've been forced to wear.

obsess, regress
the path of gorgeous stains.
infest, abscess
plant seeds of rot in the brain.

confess, detest
epitomize the loathing beneath.
possess, deflesh
it is you, to myself I will keep.
the scent of sex intoxicates,
instants play you false.
through the cloth
you gasp for breath,
synapses turn to salt.
never thought we'd meet like this,
but I guess what's done is done.
the time has come for you to watch,
while I have all the fun.

welcome to your tomb my dear.
a mattress stained
with blood and tears.
lessons learned in agony.
marionette, I feast on thee.

7. Circumstances

a boy alone, so far from home,
endless rooftops from my window.
I felt the gloom of empty rooms
on rainy afternoons.
sometimes, in confusion,
I felt so lost and disillusioned,
innocence gave me confidence
to go up against reality.

all the same, we take our chances,
laughed at by time,
tricked by circumstances.
plus ca change,
plus c'est la meme chose.
the more that things change,
the more they stay the same.

now I've gained some understanding
of the only world that we see.
things that I once dreamed of
have become reality.
these walls that still surround me
still contain the same old me,
just one more who's searching for
a world that ought to be.

8. Warwhore

heritage dooms another lot,
more history repeats.
the plight of man,
destroyed by men,
old instinct buried deep.
snuff the world at moment's thought,
the worth of life, opaque.
bayonet the conscious eye,
load all the treasure
you can take.

certain death awaits the ones
too slow to comprehend
that taking life, is right of birth,
whatever means do end.
when left to his devices,
man's no different from a beast,
whores for war, the killing tour,
where blood must matter least.

can glory claim,
such death in vain,
and like territories conquer?
those who seek to give the meek
existence without honor
burn the nerves of men who serve
distortion of the true.
violence spurred by useless worms
feed many to the few.

a segment of the phalanx,
a bowman's aiming eye,
cannon fodder dreamers,
contently born to die.
the musket ball retrievals,
and trench floor serenades.
kill the very part of us
we think we fight to save.

will glory claim all life in vain
defined by bitter nations?
those who strive to see men die
in civilized cessation.
hasten deaths to minuettes,
the Valkyrie's refrain.
placing bets with life and death,
we, choosers of the slain.

9. In Ruins

in times of fashioned chaste,
silver raced towards the sky.
machines controlled our fate.
the wise don't question why.
temptation led to promise.
create the class of need.
consume to live, in fear of life,
bite not the hand that feeds.
short years to decades turn.
baptized in swamps of greed.
through grandeur's haze, we stumble on,
blighted paths that house our dreams.
forgone are the senescent ways,
figments of judgment collapsed.
nothing left but recognitive waste,
heirs to a legacy scrapped.

Thanks to satyrasis for sending these lyrics.

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