1. |
Beacon of the West
14:45
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Beacon of the West
The Man:
Here I face the endless conundrum, to be the sum of actions or ideals. And here I stand against my morals with principle.
The Mind:
All tyrants have good intentions it is easy to bury them in years of disappointment.
The Man:
My mistakes for which others have paid. Through submissive sub consciousness I pave the way to power and control. Through the mouth of Mist I was told. What I’ve been offered is redemption, to make all understand what it means to be righteous. There will be no mercy for the damned. For I refuse to rot in the stench of mans demise. Here the Beacon of the West will prosper and strive.
The Mist:
There is poison in the wound for the world burns with sickness. He tries to make it right through strife and conviction.
The Man:
I often dream of days of thunder. I often wonder when my days were younger, and how I’m alone. I’m alone.
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2. |
Vigilance
10:41
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Vigilance
The Man:
And the voices creep in, like water through a dam. The visions that come are sickening. Seeping and pouring their way in turning my fabled intentions into dark realities. Yet in the silence I hear them talking. Scheming to destroy the Beacon, scheming to destroy justice. Taking control would have its price for the mouth of mist said.
And this is what remains! The shell of a man with nothing but mistakes. I am left with sleepless nights to guide me. Vigilance unto damnation! Salvation is merely perception. And they tell me I am enough to pave the long road to redemption.
The Mist:
To their necks they are buried, in the heat left to die. On boards they lay hands and feet are tied. Between hammer and hands he placed the nails. Driving them in with the anger of weakness and the delusions of righteousness. They beg promise and plea, their words fall onto a mind clamoring.
The Man:
Spare me your ignorance. Avoid the lies that spew from your mouth. What will happen when this is all left in ruin? When the hands of fate pummel into the Earth leaving behind only the wicked? When all good men are gone I won’t be left shaking my fists and questioning the sky. Vigilance unto damnation. So coarse is the world. This grit unbearable this grit unbearable.
The Mist:
Lost in voices that are not his own he chokes on idea so bitter only with the intention of making life better to provide haven and shelter. As their hoisted towards the sky, pillars of shame they gather and watched and not a word was spoken for tyranny walked above the road of the voiceless.
The Mind:
Yet within the silence I hear them talking scheming to destroy the Beacon. Taking control would have a price for the mouth of Mist said. And I feel the way he touched me I’m changing. The fear of death is climaxing and I cannot surmise this paranoia that escalated me towards the darker side. Is this preservation, contempt or hatred?
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3. |
Blade and Bone
11:55
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Blade and Bone
The Mind:
I hear them talking pretty soon they’ll come to get me. Around every corner lurking in every shadow their eyes are hunting, their eyes are crawling for weakness.
The Mist:
This paranoia has atrophied any sense of compassion. He can exhume no more. With every life he takes and every scream that’s heard the voices grow louder.
The Man:
All of my life I’ve drank from the cup of society. Now all that is left is misery. It will be here soon the paranoia that all that you care about will leave you alone and full of doubt. The suffocating clamor turning my intentions into a ruined smear upon this hopeless existence. I’ve flirted with the idea that I’m insane and that somewhere false realities are bleeding into my brain, if this is true I will assuredly perish in pain.
The Mist:
He took them from their beds in the dead of night. Onto sacrifice they will got for with no darkness no light. Imagine the scene though brief it will be it will live immortally in this mass grave of screams.
The Man:
With steady hands I do the work which transforms life. Between Blade and Bone I place the flesh it spills the blood of lies. They tell me what I want to hear, that they aren’t coming and there is nothing left to fear. And in their eyes I looked past life and what I saw was the relevance of space and time.
Our existence is nothing more than probability. I will not serve entropy. Preserving order, with hate and hostility. So here I stand with blood on my hands! To be who I must I’ve no need for love, no hope to embrace. To continue I must destroy myself and harbor only hate. So here I stand with blood on my hands!
I’m in too much pain to judge too much pain to judge. They wait in every shadow, how impossible this sounds. They are all talking at the same time. They all have to die.
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