by Glass Shrine

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The eunuch rose to enamored man, now snipped safe to the touch: "If my thorns were still in place, would I not be loved as much? Would you rather I represent an idyll impossible to achieve, where fingers can run on smoothened stems free of thorns and leaves?" The man sighs, ponders, solemnly answers: "Affection fails to blossom when the future's thorns are kept in sight. And so mankind copes by snipping impurity away, until we see love as a falsified future where all will be alright." "Cut it away; it might still exist, but I'll simply forget; it shall fade in my bliss I don't want to live in a world where anything is less than perfect Tomorrow's a day for a new me to face and I don't know that man, so here I'll sit, with my shears in hand, 'curing' roses over and over again..." Mortal men, all symbols of frailty will all refuse their fate indicative of a harsh reality even when it's in their face; And the sanity's saved when the thorns are shaved and their stench leaves the air, But when the future rears its ugly head, no one wonders if that's why they were ever there
You longed for a face, a flare to glow far beyond the enemy that rebellion taught you to create Antithetical responses to mores Tell me, how free are you? A mask found through an identity - shared by millions! What does this make you? Only fools deny the scent of air so sweet or the taste of ripened bulbs in bloom in defiance of their enjoyment by the elite as they search for beliefs to assume. You wheeze for breath so jaggedly, and your pulse beats out of time with other men - all in pursuit of a self to call your own through the torture of trudging against the grain You've found your "face", but it's so poorly sewn-on The ill-fitting skin betrays your soulless eyes
Throat expands beyond frame, streams automatically Once an orator's tool, now autonomous entity Detached from reason or sense to converse sparingly Vomiting thoughts from tongue to ear to fragment privacy Force-feed me words best left unheard Nothing spoken shall change my perception and nothing mused will alter what I see and all that I hear is grounded, mundane in tongues endlessly lashing in vain All shall come! And some shall come close! But with empty arms... Why have you approached me? Is it merely to unhinge your jaw, and leak the life stories that you have harbored within your maw?


released February 8, 2016

D.L. - songwriting, guitars, bass, vocals
A.K. - session drums

Written and recorded from early 2012 to August 2014.
Remastered in summer 2016.
Artwork by Coral South.


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