"Follow blindly, a leash around your throat.
Do as your told or you will fucking choke.
Baaa and Bray, a sheep in mind and heart.
Your ignorance is what tears the world apart."
Come in, come in, we are getting closer. The land of continents and white towers, we are on our way, to bring a better day tomorrow. The ball, er, planet of toxins, really something could be salvaged for sure. If you listen closely enough, you can hear a faint song rise from the Planet's core, you can hear it oh so softly. Life among the dead, indeed that was a good way to put it. From what I hear, life is like a cycle on this planet, need not say that cycles do not function in the lives of our own as well. Creations are nurtured, and those who receive not will be fed through the system of the masses. Across a jewel we had come, we had come across something precious, gorgeous for that fact. It was pretty.
We travel aimlessly, searching for jewels to shine and gems to mask in their glories. We not set path on our never-ending journey, we float in our vessel of life, drifting throughout the empty void that is outer, or internal on that note. We'll float with our own kin by our sides, going nowhere fast, waiting for something to happen. Gradually, we move onward.
" Ru-hué íshii nuo-nuo, üfercláank jao-ji?" ʝ
"Where are the children, cleansing is near?"
" Bufe'i jiang nu-ákiki wong? "
"Who says we know, united?"
Many bodies among one shared mind, our relations grow farther and farther into oddness, no, they become odder and odder as time goes on. How does one love another if truly they are merely loving themselves? How does one make love to another when really it is just them in a different physical manifestation. The single self is gorgeous, but it is not unique when sliced into two, then four, then sixteen, then two hundred and fifty six and so on. We can not communicate in the way of man, for we are joined together by a single stream of conscious, we are different yet the same, our roots directly trace to a single organism. All else is beautiful, all else is gorgeous.
We float, drifting off on the edge of the planet's outermost dwellings, we almost touch the jewel oh so slightly. Are we being scouted from afar, or very close yet as if a contorted memoir?
"You are free to do as you're told!
You are free to do as you're told!
You are free to do as you're told!
You are free to do as you're told!"
Do as your told or you will fucking choke.
Baaa and Bray, a sheep in mind and heart.
Your ignorance is what tears the world apart."
Come in, come in, we are getting closer. The land of continents and white towers, we are on our way, to bring a better day tomorrow. The ball, er, planet of toxins, really something could be salvaged for sure. If you listen closely enough, you can hear a faint song rise from the Planet's core, you can hear it oh so softly. Life among the dead, indeed that was a good way to put it. From what I hear, life is like a cycle on this planet, need not say that cycles do not function in the lives of our own as well. Creations are nurtured, and those who receive not will be fed through the system of the masses. Across a jewel we had come, we had come across something precious, gorgeous for that fact. It was pretty.
We travel aimlessly, searching for jewels to shine and gems to mask in their glories. We not set path on our never-ending journey, we float in our vessel of life, drifting throughout the empty void that is outer, or internal on that note. We'll float with our own kin by our sides, going nowhere fast, waiting for something to happen. Gradually, we move onward.
" Ru-hué íshii nuo-nuo, üfercláank jao-ji?" ʝ
"Where are the children, cleansing is near?"
" Bufe'i jiang nu-ákiki wong? "
"Who says we know, united?"
Many bodies among one shared mind, our relations grow farther and farther into oddness, no, they become odder and odder as time goes on. How does one love another if truly they are merely loving themselves? How does one make love to another when really it is just them in a different physical manifestation. The single self is gorgeous, but it is not unique when sliced into two, then four, then sixteen, then two hundred and fifty six and so on. We can not communicate in the way of man, for we are joined together by a single stream of conscious, we are different yet the same, our roots directly trace to a single organism. All else is beautiful, all else is gorgeous.
We float, drifting off on the edge of the planet's outermost dwellings, we almost touch the jewel oh so slightly. Are we being scouted from afar, or very close yet as if a contorted memoir?
"You are free to do as you're told!
You are free to do as you're told!
You are free to do as you're told!
You are free to do as you're told!"