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Intronaut




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Альбом Intronaut


Void (22.08.2006)
22.08.2006
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Everything you've uttered is an echo
And this is not a curse
At least not by the hands of another

Your refuse
Will fertilize
Your own children
And the tunnel is burrowed eternally

As time digests itself
It worms through the path
And is excreted
As time digests itself

Gargantuan malformation
Worms through the path
And is excreted

. . .


When the truth won't do
And lies are so fulfilling

Hollow words
Beget hollow gestures
Hollow gestures
Beget hollow ventures

This impulse that dictates our nature
Drives us to dysfunction
Belligerent apathy
Belligerent apathy
Belligerent apathy would suit us so much better
But our motives are too impure

. . .


Reflection
Is but a stranger
These strings set rigorous routine

Cracks form, covering my body
Weakened, blistered and torn apart

Revisiting old wounds
Completing the circle
Once again

Swollen eyes fixed on the prize
We hang our heads in self-destructive triumph

These fault lines
A soul erosion
Predictions never became so clear

. . .


Disillusioned with complacence
We craft our past

Peering down this tunnel ever so far
Cracks shed light

Another day fails the shadow
One by one another chapter closes

Nostalgic echo
Perpetually reverberates
In the teeth of all experience
We still stand

Immersed in reflection
Memories linger and cling like dirt

. . .


The yearning increased at
Exponential rates
But you wanted no part
Mortally content
Until the surge gave shock
And got you on all fours
Interface fucked
Inside a cubicle that looks of detachment

Is it the size or the angle? the point is clear
The mortal erection has run out of skin
We're hooked on electric stimuli

. . .


Wandering lost
In a place of disillusionment
Gives way to glacial edifice
Narrow spaces with towering frigid walls

Monolithic blocks of ice
Stacked to the sky

Reflective surfaces
Confuse
And obscure all
Boundaries

Is it over?
Has it begun?

But when the balance is
Disrupted
The iceblocks will
Rain down

. . .


Derange the scale of trust
With this animated prevarication
That once passed for happiness
Degenerate into character

The clearest of all intentions
Words drawn out
Unfiltered

A perception
Untainted by logic

We are such low things
With null for a name
And while we quietly become
Imperceptible...

We are such low things
With null for a name
The inner monologue exposed
But this curtain is drawn closed

. . .


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