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Brown Bird
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Seven Hells
The seventh hell inside us impales and divides us
And scatters our skin with the seed
Of our deeds devoured, on other worlds showered
inRead invented by Teads
As our demon celestials bleed
The seventh heaven's promise, the Gospel of Thomas
The Shahadat's secrets are saved
As the dead and the sleeping still fear a flesh reaping
And gather their gold for the grave
In bonds of conscience respiration fails
Blind suffocation proceeds
By floodwaters swallowed, the proprium of whales
Shed these lung spires and breathe
Eyes end in flames and the brow settles
Sunk cheek to jaw
Lips forming shame and the mind's metal
Floods one and all
Laws of men lay claim to all those without shame
Who enlighten themselves with the lies
That our souls are bound to the deafening sounds
As the megaphones fill up the skies
In bonds of conscience respiration fails
Blind suffocation proceeds
By floodwaters swallowed, the proprium of whales
Shed these lung spires and breathe
Eyes end in flames and the brow settles
Sunk cheek to jaw
Lips forming shame and the mind's metal
Floods one and all
No sacred sound remains unscathed despite the fall
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No shouting shafts of light are saved
No demon's peace prescribed for pain to one and all
No foul façade left saving face
Nine Eyes (Lamb)
Nine eyes on the wild one
In the heliosphere of the holy sun
A skeleton of stone in reverence kneels
Through translucent skin of steel
An offering of what was once our lives held high
Bound to these spheres by inherent sound
Of hunger, of heart and cerebral crown
We're languid in the chains of daily strife
That choke and chafe internal life
The undying in us stirs with each link these sounds melt down
Assail any altar aligned with any faltered
Design of material gain
And we shall shed these shackles of shame
For the robes of what naked remains
Wax wings for a venture in vain,
Or the evolution of the alchemists aim?
The element of man reduced to flesh
A vessel of our consciousness
Reborn within a cage that won't decay or die
Assail any altar aligned with any faltered
Design of material gain
And we shall shed these shackles of shame
For the robes of what naked remains
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