monument

Philosophers' Sin

From the twisted sands of the Venus rivers
To the urban myths of the South Side

She wallows and spells out a gasp
The chemical tread has seeped inside
And laid its cancer
Inside her corners
The slowest suffocation possible

She knows the answers to all of life's questions
But will never live to share them

A young priest stands alone in his Home
The smell of wood stain and the feel of cold linoleum on soles
A solace so rich in tale but sweltering in fable
He's realized that he hasn't lost anything
But gave away everything

Two worlds in one, cold bracelets and dirty nails
Sidewalk boutiques and Styrofoam coffee cups

A world of placement and requisition, to a life of denial
Once one was the other: and the other was the one

"Do we live to die or die to live?"
Asked the mechanic.

The substance of space can become so concrete
That even if chipped away, it will always leave its residue

"Is grace to cold for comfort, has warmth become the stability?"
Asked the addict.

Join us for this elaborate circus
Follow us through the blur
That connects the real and reality

Walk with me amongst the crumble
For this be my Twilight of the Idols