1. |
The Kracken of Normandy
03:32
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[French gibberish]
Down beneath the oceans waves seeks a beast that craves to climb onto our ships and smell our mangled flesh. His fins are great in size, they’ll crash down on the masts and smash all men within a thunderous crash. Men driven now by fuel bewilder his routine, they’re much too quick for his lightning strikes. Men coming from the west soar past the horror’s gaze, they’re much too quick for his Kracken ways.
[en francais]
Will you come sail with me? Come fight the Germans at Normandy? Straight past the fish that destroys. Straight past the beast the sees us as his toy.
[French madness]
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2. |
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Vulcan sipping his wine, it’s laced with ambrosia. Pompei sitting below, our god of fire. His throat rumbles with molten destruction. Roman peasants are buried by vomit. The vomit, of Vulcan.
I heard he was drunk on power. He manipulated the mountain so high. Inhale his ash. Citizens flee, with tears in their eyes. Fire is falling from the sky. City laid to ash, everyone goes blind. Inhale his smog. Suffocation carried to the young and the old and while nothing is safe, the tale has been told.
Swim
Through Fire
Swim
Through sinister smoke and smolder
Vulcan tears through dismay. His patrons have now become his victims. He sets up his glass, he sets down his pipe. His binge was for absolutely nothing.
Vulcan stands up. Drunk as a god, and his body lies above Roman city. His time is end, he’ll come crashing down and the people writhe unto his pain.
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3. |
Through the Blue
02:28
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Ride tonight left or right, can’t see through the blue. Run tonight, death is their site. Must crawl through the blue.
Galloping through the fire. Trudging through frigid tundra. Cross the bridge before thunder. Traverse through haunted forests.
Why do they come for us now?
Women and children
Burn.
Burn.
Innocence.
Sick cold dead bloody bruised blistered covered in sores that they’d went to shame.
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4. |
A Man of Ideas
04:24
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Oleg seeking inspiration. Hastily ears pointed to the breeze. Empty pages, a leather bound journal. Flutter upon the windowsill.
The voice nestled between his eyes. It skips certain syllables continuing never ending frustration. His muse maybe not so mystical. Erratic and hysterical her firght and terror palpable.
His ideas create a new world.
Choral tremors shift the constant wind. Her familiar voice impels him out the door.
Neurotic composition becoming incarnation neurotic composition genuine manifestation
He hears familiar laughter. Oleg answers the call he’d thought to have been hers. Running he sees a woman kneeling, a man is pressing a barrel against her head. He’d finally heard every word she had said.
His father wearing the mask of a fox he smiled through it’s grin.
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5. |
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Finality becoming reality.
Laughter melts the snow. Her tears are screaming no. Her eyes are stitched shut.
Oleg runs at his father, his fists clenched, eyes wide, gun cocked back, the finger doesn’t squeeze the trigger.
She screams he halts. He sees the eyes pulsing color as the tears swell he draws the knife.
Oleg with far in his eyes, drives forth praying in silence. Cursing the blood that stains the snow he’ll find peace in the death of his memories.
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6. |
Searching for Serenity
03:26
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He tackles the fox to the ground. Calling forth all his strength. Memories jar his ferocity, adrenaline pumps his blood. The knife, the gun become tangled. Both men no longer armed. His fury is generated by his blood.
Seeing the bastard’s face. Seeing his ugly sneer. Seeing the dream of freedom. No longer seeing mistakes he had made.
Meredith begins to tear at the stitching. But she notices nothing. Blackness of night surrounds the two. She feels the warmth of blood spill across her face. Oleg’s rage explodes upon hearing his father’s pain.
Holding on to his head, foreheads meet stunning them.
The fox now dead. Oleg claims his head.
The sunlight peeks fraying the clouds. Oleg covers the corpse. His muse still shaking he carries her from the snow.
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7. |
Oleg
04:39
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Oleg. Meredith. His muse now free shows him the way to write to paint. The truth in life. Without disdain he’d come to know sitting alonepages not blank. Now all he’s operating on excess disgust grandeurous thinking father’s blood on his hands he writhes and contorts realizing his blood wont change the world.
Edit the False
Credit the truth.
The frustration has been risen from inside. His sense of duty no longer quenched by ink and paper. Violent thoughts encourage him.
Oleg. Making Meredith timorous.
Apotheosis twisted with blackened magic. Oleg sees the presence of entering the voices beckoning him. Meredith shelling through her sadness she is frantic shaking deeply fused to the bark in the pillar of his mind.
Language that burns their world Oleg will strip her from the tree with a spell that once was a poem written for her. It’s now her epitaph.
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8. |
As Meredith Explodes
03:11
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From her body choosing life she animates her anger. A breastless angel comes to breathe the torturous truth from her. Visions past the violent seas consume the divine power. But this pain right through my chest is what she aims to capture.
Secrets and scriptures she had sought to hide. But her curiosity led to ruin compromise. Meredith given to ritual against her will.
Chained not to the wall, but her undeniable fall.
She took her body to the hell hounds but they refused to accept this so she made deals with a titan that came at a ghastly price.
Cults have once revered me this truth is coming clear. But they sought only to consummate her fear. This angel at my rear created without eyes or breasts to define her in her self-reliant pride.
She seeks me for my life. She yearned to uncover the truth. Oh ye breastless angel Meredith you’ll never see the truth. I knew not why you died yet you pursue me screeching words of fury. My spell ignites your body stumbling to the earth. Meredith you solely soiled your rebirth.
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9. |
Triangular Room
03:15
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Awaken to illumination. Much to my discomfort. I know not from where he peers or even for what reason. Does he peer to blood shot eyes? Just to seek perversion? I swear I will come to know this and escape this makeshift prison.
Will you leave me to be in this state of desperate malnutrition. I will defy you and your routine and all your thick curses be upon your technology your sickening voyeuristic laws binding the locks as if I were a treasure in a vault.
Now I realize noticing the soles of my feet raw and swollen. Altering sense of deduction that I need to escape seduction.
The lock falls to the ground. I step right through. To God before me, he says. Welcome Home.
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10. |
Ralos
02:04
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