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I’ve got story…
There comes a time when we all need to find ourselves, ourselves. I don’t mean just a label to share or to yell, to yell. To creat opinions, explaining how our emotion swells, it swells. Our deepest thoughts, fealings from our guts, and where they dwell, they dwell. And, man, just when I think I khow I stand. Everything flipped, everything… it flipped. You see, there was a day when I became particularly lost. And, I became willing to change everything, at any cost. Just as I knelt in an open field, preparing for death, and to rot. A figure appeared, with a message for me, and this is what I got: "My fine young friend, as you reach your end, I’ve got some thoughts on how you might mend… oh yeah. You're going about this all wrong, please let me help you to stand strong. Now come along, my son… now, come along.” So, I followed this man, through the woods overgrown, and on his back porch, of a simple dark home. “Stop giving a fuck”, he smiled as he said, “listen to me”, as he lifted my head. “Make every day count or you’ll die in a bed”.
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Stung by venom, falling deeper, with momentum as it’s steeper. Tumble lower, as I’m learning, twisting, turning, from my lover. She is still above this cavern, safe and sound, but I’ve descended further, farther down… oh, down. As I fall I call out, reach out for some aid, helpless in the mountain, I am afraid. Miles and miles I’ve fallen, FOR her and now FROM her. Miles and miles away from her… with no forseen way to return. Miles.
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Aeolian
05:47
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"This wind, this gust, blows our collective sin right out of us. And, it’s carried, so far ‘round the world, ‘round the world, and we’ll watch with glee as our deceitful flag is unfurled. But don’t blame us man, this was also your plan.” What is this new wind of heat from the deep? Sparking the prideful, awake from their sleep. What is this new wind of heat from the deep? Sparking the prideful, awake from sleep? The flag is unfurled and hatred is hurled. Emotions whirled upon this burning world. And, if you can’t take this heat, and the blood now at your feet, Amerikkka’s new heartbeat of hate… beat after beat, after beat. The wind, the gust, blows your sin right at us. And, it’s carried, so far ‘round the world, and you’ll watch with glee, with a boot on my neck, while your deceitful flag, your flag unfurls.
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Between Hell and Hope
02:45
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Rope, I’m at the end of my rope, I’m between hell and hope. I’m between hell and hope. Maybe you have some advice, saving words to help me cope. Oh, come on, save me if you can… I’m swinging, balancing, swinging from this rope. I can’t tell you how I got here. Can’t recall the hour, month or year. Oh, time ran through my grasp, I watched it change from sand to glass and back. Time ran through my grasp, I watched it change from sand to glass, and still… some folks think there's a sick and twisted thrill from being this ill, like I stand proud atop this hill of pills. There’s no pride in this neverending ride, no. My never ending story, sees no single ounce of glory. There’s no pride in this neverending ride.
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That Proverb of Old
06:17
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When I feel injured, threatened, or left in the cold, I’d do best to remind myself 'bout the proverb of old… something about not throwing stones, if my house is as fragile, as fragile as my own bones… these old bones. The weight I carry, the weight I carry is my own, my own. ‘Been collecting many a stone, different sizes, for the enemies I know. As I come upon them, I reach into my arsenal—a quiver that’s grown—I’ll take joy from choosing the ones I now own. But, oh… all this weight. And, I fear it’s to late. But we all do this, or am I alone? Am I alone, in this ritual of collecting stone? Help me with this weight, this constant pattern of hate, spending my time on enemies of mine, with fantasies of their demise I create, I create this burden of weight.
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Every stone and every wave, oh the deep conversations made, between the two in Mother Nature’s care, and the sweetest harmony they share. And though I care, I always do swear, the beauty of life is often to much to bear… and where, oh where, is my place there? I’m a living, breathing, walking fossil, a zombie in a shell, time’s apostle. I’m driven, only by a terrible curse, mad with envy of others, searching for something to quench my thirst for the worst. And this life, an empty verse… with nothing to say, to keep the outcome at bay, it’s the same: each and every day, more minutes, and hours of the same old hunting of sun in the grey, where is the light in this rain? Oh my. I’m a living, breathing zombie in a shell, and I’ve been here forever, I’m a fossil, just a fossil.
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The Lumbar Endeavor
Heavy sonic and visual offerings by musician/vocalist Aaron D.C. Edge (of Process Black, Hellvetika, Bible Black Tyrant, Ramprasad) and soundscape/field recorder + illustrator André Trindade (CVSPE).
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i love how depressing it sounds
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Blessings of the Highest Order
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I'm recovering from an Ileostomy, having had my colon removed because of a m'fing tumor. I've got this stoma on my belly that I now excrete through into a fucking bag. Not happy. But Thou have put a smile on my face with this. Life's a bitch then you die. Best thing to do is make sure you've got a good soundtrack- and this is an amazing one
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