Brutal screams & eye opening themes!

When all the lights go out what will be left of all our suffering and our regrets?

As this eternity lays still and lingers on; the threat of emptiness… will it be gone?

To measure happiness, measure misery.

Why there was something here and now there’s nothing left.

The light of reason never shone what to expect. 

And as our ethics strove to guide the ending near, so came the past returned with nothing we hold dear. 

The Absurd’s completion of an absurd creation.

Now as the darkness follows light with the memories made by every life.

Wounds may heal and fade away, life emerges, then decays.

In time, the darkness will swallow us whole, breathing what's left of our world.

Tearing apart the fears we've made our own.

And as the darkness follows light with the memories left by every life.

Wounds may heal or rot away; we once emerged, and we will fade.

When time stands still and looks away, when nothing's lost and nothing’s saved

Amongst the stars we live and burn, we rust until the lights have gone out.

The ocean may seam still at times when gazing from afar. Though if I judged would I be wrong

Nature seems forgotten now, a safer world in which we drown.

As humans we must be controlled, this world my not support our own.

When we're suppressed we will believe this.

Slavery, eternity... Gods of religious hoards... Slavery, eternity... The structure of our paradigm.

Rebels terrorize the future, this habitat must be protected, and so they're sought out, the few rejected.

Feed 'em violent hierarchies and fill the thoughts with lust and dreams.

Attest and deem the unwed whores...The solution is to suppress more.

Pornographise the mass with shame; this is how we're seeded out.  

Weak and frail is man with doubt. 

Slavery, eternity... Gods of religious hoards... Slavery, eternity... The structure of our paradigm. 

Oh I’ve heard the cries of man, and we’ve been weeping for so long.
The needs of many and the wants of a few will always be our torment.
I, I stand here tall knowing there is a cure.
There is a cure…

There are cures to any burden, to any wound or any ailment that we mourn throughout the passing of time.

Leisure though the footsteps of the Gods, stand before those myopic; attest to this.

There's a, a guy with severed limbs who will never walk again; he will be cured.
And to the ones who divide man while claiming lands; you will be cured.
As the dogmas of our time fade away. 

We will never succeed together; everything will rust and fade away. 

It's all curable...

There are cures to any burden,  to any wound or any ailment that we mourn throughout the passing of time.
Leisure through the footsteps of the Gods, stand before those myopic; attest to this.

We will be cured, I am apathetic.
I rest assured knowing that everything is curable by... Death!

Through my eyes, I have found that light will always blind me.

In the darkness I will fall... to the earth.

In the light, there’s a man…Who wept “forsaken”.

On a dark path in his mind there's a God... forgotten.

To gold and steel, we’ve pledged our alliance.

We fell as we froze, we lacked proper dictation.

As the past fades away with our stones of creation.

Now the scum of the earth, await their second-coming.

When I use my eyes, it seems as though I'm no longer alive.
Through distant memories love is strong, but only in my mind.
Creating time, I feel the pulse I bare is setting me aside, of what seems so convincing;
dualities of the mind.

The brutal nature of our kind is so embedded in our minds.
Living only when we have nothing, or nothing left to hide.  
Out of our fears we wage our wars; fighting to fight, only for more.  
Amongst ourselves we conquer, and this rots us from within.

Devoid of any meaning, we battle with ourselves.

So fearful of uncertainty we choose to live in Hell.

Controlling our dominions, illusions of our age.

Assuming to be certain, asserting to be saved.

Will the lack of any reason ever justify the end?

Falsifying certainties and writing off the dead.

Controlling our dominions and all within our cage.

Forwards here is backwards now.

When I use my eyes, it seems as though I'm no longer alive.

Distant memories they'll follow me and show me where I hide.

Knowledge and stupidity, envy and good will.

Wisdom and enslavement, dualities. 

We fight ourselves, a trial and error relentlessly opposed;
the best of us lie slain and conquered or dwelling in our homes.
And while we lie here left to rot deserted and alone?
A few return back from the bullshit, exalting a new throne.

Week, we only fight for so long, conquered by our own
devices in the guise of God, we’ve enslaved what is known
as integrity and humility, through this we’ve proudly shown,
nepotistic monarchies while repenting to save our souls.

Yet here we dwell, in fear of a Hell, beyond our mortal reach.
Complacent, shame has tarnished us. Could there be honor amongst thieves?
And as we lie here left to rot alone amongst our thoughts.
Abused and raped here victimized by villains and their Gods.

life is dying and the week can grow old appealing to the millions of dead souls

in fear of the world that we all know; uncertain, so the fears, they unfold.

The truth here is banned and the science has been sold to nervous men worshiping their gold.

Forgotten is the past as amnesia sets in, cloaked by the fears that are growing now within.

And I say to you before I leave this place; we are abused and adore it.

Find me where I dream, I am awaking.

Worn-out by machines that are feared and praised the more we bleed; reduce us to nothing.

Life is dying and the week can grow old appealing to the millions of dead souls

in fear of the world that we all know; uncertain, so the fears they all unfold.

Programmed are the minds in the world in which we grow; slavery is built by illusions of control.

The seeds of wisdom here are hidden and untold; the fear of the truth now soils what we know.

Fearism

And I say to you before I leave this place; we are abused and adore it.

Find me where I dwell.

Gaze onto our hell, watch us fool ourselves.

Fearism is life reduced to nothing.

My life is in my hands. Why would I build then tear apart all of the deeds that I've created just to be back at the start again?

One would think that life is finite, everyday could be the last, yet here I am amongst the builders tearing down once-more the past. 

Could  it be just that I care?  That someone else was well aware that I would  fight if I'm compelled to be emotionally connected. Perhaps we've been  manipulated, orchestrated over-time, and have become apart wars ensuing  now only in our minds.

Driven we work to build our lives, wanting to live, we just survive

Building to tear down what we've made, burning our past to ease our pain.

The cultures of the past that ceases are re-fabricated with disease.

Security will be assured to all of those who've never learned to just ask why or walk away from the empires of today while pointing fingers, shifting  blame, barely more than just complain.

So overwhelmed and unsustained while holding on to so much shame, as so much noise just pierces through...

Everything will always be same for those who see yet look away, they no longer hear their inner cries as we diverge.

With every minute of every day the passive man is more enslaved,

now wanting only to be heard, he spews the bullshit that he learnt.

Now every pulse becomes a dream a temporal beating lucid scream, rhythmically lifeless, unaware, completely vacant.