1. |
8
03:23
|
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I am of work and wheels
Ends with no onset
Corporeal
I use less to create more
I tolerate no void
No means to erase forward thought
I use less to make more
Move under my own power
I find life in fact
Defy charlatans
Reside in growth
Take no notice of tradition
There is no shame in my needs
No fight in my boundries
What I will become
is better than what I have been
I take in breath and experience
and use both to make more
use both and take less
To be a root with no soil
|
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2. |
9
03:31
|
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Weakness is the flags of traitors
No pride in just defeats
Lost glory; bygone failures
Let the old wounds take you
Add this hill to your list
of places to die with honor
watch it erode
watch it erode
Washed away by your own persistence
Flee to those who feed on persecution
Find your tribe
Paint your face
and praise the dissolution
Hunt down the wounded mass
and hide in fear
and hide your fear
Asinine
Spite draped in morality
Empty defiance
Give up
A martyr for a wretched cause
Weakness is the flags of traitors
|
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3. |
7
06:09
|
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I tolerate no void
Give no glory to the mire
Certain in my means
Righteous in my grudge
Lash out at the tentative and weak
I have no tribe. No painted face.
But a careful rational; I am just
Sedate. Cold to empty trends
Guided solely by humane rage
Lash out towards the tentative and weak
Life in noble monochrome
Convict their world for inaction
and refusal to adapt
Guided by humane rage
Isolated by will
Contempt bred by conceit
Upon my mock throne
There is no high ground
Only mud and the stench
of those who would will it all to char
Now we are all sons of bitches
|
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