1. Auditorium of Modern Movements 03:36
2. Acceleration 04:30
3. The Concept of Haste 04:09
4. A Song For D. Incorporated 04:59
5. The Green Office and The Dark Desk Drawer 04:17
6. The Flow at 09:30 am 06:25
7. Of Concrete and Glass 03:14
8. 90° Angles 07:19
9. I No Longer Know If I Am Mad 02:28
10. Synthetic, Fabricated, Calculated 04:11
Total 45:08
1. Auditorium Of Modern Movements
ResponderEliminarThis is the auditorium of modern movements
A breeding ground for light speed profit thinking
Where a biting shine exposes the possibilities of the flesh
And the direction of the green flow
This is the city of Soma - an idea brought to life
And carefully designed by George Reed
Founding member of Modern Architects Deluxe
- "Constructing a new world for speed, efficiency and streamlined income"
So you're climbing upwards through structures of metal and glass
Subconsciously trying to reach the roof, but somehow there's always one more floor
It's a strange mixture of soft thinking and hard work
Or was it the other way around?
The ground for comparison was trampled a long time ago,
So no one really knows anymore
Amidst this aimless craving for matter
2. Acceleration
Accelerating darkness
Designer light
Iron constructions, concrete and wood
Flaring light echoing consumer minds
Mountains are only future sand
Forests are only unreleased heat
Darkened glasses kill dirty rays
Handbags weighed down with asphalt dust
Thought process standardized
Philosophy a set of guidelines for inefficiency
Religion a fluffy cushion of synthetic feathers
Life itself a mechanical movement from A to B
C is always a thought but never an option
3. The Concept Of Haste
The cycle of life speeds up like a rabid biker
Getting narrower for every turn
Its silver tail not as shiny as it was
The colossal width only paper thin
Acceleration beyond light and darkness
Welcome to the modern museum of life
A strobe-like feeling of universal consequence
The rate of change of velocity
Merely a tool to make us see
That no one can stand as still
In such a speed as we always will
Warm relations turn down the heat
Dust is everywhere, all mouths are dry
This is my nest - I'll defend it with my life
Cosmological consequences of not relating
Connections cut, no restrictions necessary
Yesterday, today, tomorrow
4. A Song For D. Incorporated
They sent me an invoice
- "P&S to be returned to D. Incorporated within the date of _."
So I gave them a call. An angry one.
9-113-451208
I said: "Why are you invoicing me?"
I heard whispers and slow breathing
"I never made a purchase from you, so stop bothering me"
The whispering stopped. The sound of hot air sustained
"I demand an explanation"
All went silent, and the phone seemed to get heavier
A deep voice in the other end of the line:
They sent me an invoice
- "P&S to be returned to D. Incorporated within the date of _."
So I gave them a call. An angry one.
9-113-451208
"It's not yours, you lease it
It's not yours, you lease it"
"Please be kind and return it to us
Within the date stated on the invoice,
Or we will have to come and claim it by force."
"It's not yours, you lease it
It's not yours, you lease it"
5. The Green Office And The Dark Desk Drawer
ResponderEliminarI found it hidden in the very core of the city
The building didn't do it justice, but then again no building would
The office door ajar and the letters D.I. on everything
It was empty when I arrived but the thick, damp air told me
That someone had been there only minutes ago
The room was painted in different shades of green
All matching the colour of the flow
And the interior, Spartan as it was, seemed to
Underline the fact that this company was all about
Control, direction and blatant satisfaction
I saw invoices everywhere, and a thick mahogany table
Covered with yellowed pieces of paper - they were lists, and it finally occurred to me
- this was an administrative center for the P&S of our modern world
"Such a fetid web of pretence!"
It lay in the bottom of an old ashtray,
Yellow and worn as the others, but somehow different.
Two dates - one I knew and one I didn't.
Both were passed, the second one very recently.
I lifted the paper, folded it and slid it into my back pocket
Then I left.
Fundamental change - turn the direction of the breeze by force, crank it up to a storm
Of the breeze by force, crank it up to a storm
6. The Flow At 9:30 AM
Coloured flashes never burned my eyes
The way the dirty sun does
On my way from the office,
Through streets of bleached light,
It came to me that what I had to do was
To find the main flow and obstruct it
It came to me that what I had to do was
To find the main flow and obstruct it
So I went to the cathedral.
Nick-A was at the turntables as always
The fans were already dancing like madmen
So I went to the cathedral.
Nick-A was at the turntables as always
The fans were already dancing like madmen
To the pulsating beat.
It had a cashier-like quality
A soundtrack working in verdant direction
Mr. A kept chasing the flow with an ever-increasing BPM
As the audience exchanged movements
- bargaining for moves and grooves
until power restrictions were enforced
and the BPM sunk like a stone
Coloured flashes never burned my eyes
The way the dirty sun does
On my way from the office,
Through streets of bleached light,
It came to me that what I had to do was
To find the main flow and obstruct it
It came to me that what I had to do was
To find the main flow and obstruct it
So I went to the cathedral.
Nick-A was at the turntables
The dancers were left in despair - discontented
It was rumoured that some of them chose the red exit
7. Of Concrete And Glass
Found the core to stop the flow
No obstruction, green pierces everything
I have been washed
Now the errors and faults are a blur
See the glass under my feet and the reflection above
It has all come to this:
My view to the left and to the right has been lost
Something is blocking it
To help me focus on what is important
For it and for them
I have been eaten by dirty blocks of concrete
And concept-paper
But in the end, as I was sliding brutally through the system, the whole feeling of being digested turned out to be nothing more that the feather-soft caresses of a juggernaut world
"P&S to be returned to _"
I guess it's all set
So it has come to this
Measuring the distance
Between this world and mine
8. 90 Degree Angles
ResponderEliminarIt has been done!
The return is completed!
Now to grow fainter
To be buried in soft shades of jade
I used to like the rainfalls - to feel tender bites
of grey city water on my white, clean face
pure from the start - dirty to the end
drawing diagonal marks - shutting me into a private prison with bars of water on skin
The smell of wet asphalt always softened up a hard world
90 degree angles, shiny surfaces covered in dirt
and worn out streets leading from nothing to nothing
Who put us here anyway? Did I ever take the time to find out?
Did they ever bother to ask? Was it even an option?
It's been returned
I wonder if the dirt has forced its way through my skin by now
Feels like it's there - itching from the inside, weakening my flesh
I need a sunblock or a dirtblock - something to protect me
Nothing's ever gonna be the same again
I'm on the wrong... surface
Nothing's ever gonna be the same again
Nothing's ever gonna be the same again
Open up the shell, wash away the facade
Let me out or let me in
Open up the shell, wash away the facade
Let me out or let me in
Please just let me, Please just let me
Please just let me, Please just let me
9. I Know Longer Know If I Am Mad
I no longer know if I am mad
or if I'm feigning it to cover my own mediocrity
I sometimes feel like a fell wizened necromancer
labouring at his pleasure
performing his liturgy as one long consumed by ashes
Factory fumes nourishing the dreams of the cosmopolite
Affectionate longing for white coats, auditoriums and blackboard dust
Spiraling walkways, webs of concrete, bricks and mirrored glass
I no longer know if I have experienced passion/love/despair/hate
Was it only socially induced behaviour?
Like long forgotten twisted poetry
gleaned from mouldy parchment
Pain is always more real than bliss
It's in greater supply
It's the warm familiar womb in which your mind can hide
As your open doors and portals
Walk the paved paths to offerings
Foiled predetermined neurological patterns
Like paper boats bound for the drains
You speak the incantations written on grey mortal walls
syllables tasting like blood in your mouth
You know absolution
You know mortality
Reality slowly peeled layer by layer
outwards to the fringe where upon the altar of forgotten deities
the combustion of the self still vibrates
Dark flowers thrusting their thorns up
reaching where manifestations of the skies labour to fill the vacuum
You seek to explain the universe with numbers
Itch to fill in the final answer underlined twice
Like an infant you step into the first light at dawn
It's bright and bitter and sharp
10. Synthetic, Fabricated, Calculated
Somehow still here
Under the surface
Beyond the invoices and D. Inc.
Outside the system
I have never seen past the paper fortifications
So I have my doubts
But still, that nagging prospect
Of all this being fabricated
False
Calculated
Consumes me in all its green splendour
But it doesn't touch
Alluring and tempting, the shine and the flow
Runs straight through me
Now not even sensing my presence
But I can see it, I can see it if I close my eyes
I can break through the paper shine
And reach the core, the true core
Jade, Emerald
Never defeated and never will be
But exposed for everyone to see
How can it still accelerate?
When the fuel is gone?