Across gates of sand, for forty cycles we roamed In the grip of the sardonic suns These spectral aberrations have become The centerless figures of our attention Spherical womb Edge of the world Unto that ineffable horror we came On the nocturnal frontiers of the skies The arch of our finiteness Spherical womb Edge of the world Where everywhere Merges with nowhere
"When I consider the short span of my life absorbed into the preceding and subsequent eternity, swallowed up in the immensity of spaces of which I know nothing and which know nothing of me... I am terrified."
The insurgency rose from the mud To pierce through those crystal veils And shatter the Machinist's stone pedestal With the hope left of forty earth's revolutions The insurgency rose from the dust To break the Tablets of Stone And seize the emptiness that lays beneath the surface A glass surface over this rootless swirl Caught into a glimpse that never came to life Black flakes under the strain of uncertainty We have faced the vanity of this attempt The faceless center of our attention Lured those ghosts into this work of absurdity Now godless watchmakers of our jammed clockworks Across those narrowing paths of sand we roam The insurgency rose from the mud To crawl between this purple dew and that naked light Stenches on the cursing winds of expectant concerns We shall face the vacuity that sublimated our earthly condition Holding this moment to let denial be our last shelterTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
