1. |
a lesson in emptiness
03:59
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without even walking I am home
without ever eating I'm satisfied
without even dying I am born
it's noon, it's midnight
it's fall, it's rise time
it's break, it's mend time
without ever sleeping I'm wide awake
without even drinking I thirst no more
without ever crying I mourn no more
it's noon, it's midnight
it's fall, it's rise time
it's break, it's mend time
so don't even, the snake flying high
so don't even, the brids wallow by
at moon, at sun time
at spring, at sprung time
at live, at die time
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2. |
four mountains
04:41
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there at the bottom from Cain
face to face with where you're from
there's no way this one can be negated
nor wonder why one would want to
ignore the mountain of birth
O, so lonesome there at the bottom
head to toe tied to gravity
and all your finest threads undone
pleasure now a deep seated fling
ignore your mountain of age
there, O, where creeps black nausea
up the spine, you've squandered your swine
you are now weakened by passion & lust
you've got a fever & the doctor's pleased
ignore your mountain so sick
yet don't you be so damned sure
that this be the end from where you're from
ye all shall reconstitute
become greater this, these, that, & those
up high on yon mountain,
your very own mountain of death
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3. |
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take away yon pathetic veils
and dissolve these afflictions
that have bound & gagged
us together for so long
every veil is its own ignorant hell
blind & bound are you to the heel of strife
on yon horn of plenty you're impaled
yet you can't quite undress the emptiness
that has ached & nagged
at our being for so long
every veil is its own deep, vast hell
blind & bound you have been to the love of life
in deep, pure space you dissolve your hell's veils
relax clenched dumb fists
that had begged & lacked & groped
at nothing for so long
every veil is its own blinding hell
wined & dined you have been on the loaf of life
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4. |
cephalization day
03:37
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today's the day, cephalization day
for generations I've dined on decay
now I'm on the mend & I'm out to bend
this evolutionary trend my way
today's the day, cephalization day
for millennia I've hunted soft prey
now in spite of, or instead of, this head
my new brain has led me astray
today is the day, cephalization day
the accumulation of come-what-may
all horns will sound, all flags will wave
bundles of new nerves will now congregate
at one of my ends, let sensation begin
in my overbearing sack of misbehave
in my wretched self-made sack of misbehave
today is the day, cephalization day
today is the day, cephalization day
sensation, awareness in searing strains
revulsion, attachment to panging pains
yet it is so that these will all pass away
misled to the new dawn of a new form of vain
sensations,
congreagations,
accomodations,
cephalization day!
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5. |
threadbarer's song
02:31
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just what are you going to do
with an onion skin?
and what are you going to do
with an empty tin?
what are you going to do
when they smash your shin?
it's a lot to do when you're whittled thin
and now I'm crawling over glass
and every known gas explodes beneath my toes
what did you do
when mistakes were made?
did you react
at the relegate?
what have you done
since you forayed?
it's a lot to do, it's all unmade
and now I'm crawling over glass
and every known gass explodes beneath my toes
they say never trust the thought of dust
as it tip-toes slowly through the past
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6. |
shore of pain
04:13
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now, i stagger so sickly right up to the door
inside I hear the moan of some forlorn whore
my tongue is parched, scortched from lies issued forth
bleeding toes leak through where brown bag shoe tore
I know we're made of land & sea & this here storm
& the shore of pain wherein go those thorns
& the endless grief from where the tears are torn
O what will I have done?
the shore of pain from which I dare not run
I taste the muck junked blood & I spit it on high
flesh landscapes seen now by my old monkey mind
make my heart chopped up fine with libidinous lies
my broken knuckles assume a defensive disguise
yeah, we're made of land & sea & this here storm
the shore of pain wherein loss may be mourned
& the agony of where this babe is born
on countless beds my head has lain
I now dissolve the shore of pain
O what will I have done? Yeah!!
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7. |
acts
05:36
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what will these hands have done?
which acts & deeds 'neath this sun?
just what is their volition?
might they end what they've begun?
may they always plant good seed
in fertile earth of righteous deeds
ever-yielding sweet relief
may their acts never cause blood flow
let these hands soothe the human moan
may these hands never strike one down
let them elevate the earthly bound
their acts they reap what acts were sown
precious little hands, precious skin & bone
let no viper fasten onto these hands
seek no vengeance, no barbarous demands
may these hands never offend the earth
let them share the wealth of the human birth
may they be at ease with idleness
let them be at ease even in distress
their acts will reap what acts were sown
calloused, wrinkled hands, fragile skin & bone
what will these hands have done?
what acts under what sun?
let them end what was begun
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8. |
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for years I've drifrted along on a sea of sensual bliss
spent time floating away up above my blemished blunders
afloat so effortlessly, drifting through the lush & frozen
I was digging it now, a high tide pride of lion sass
then I tried holding on to fleeting faces in shifting space
dead reckoning now in these wretched waves of pastel dread
and it's drowning me now, floundering, I rise up & pass
but I try holding on to these splinters of passion & lust
at realization of this I smirk & sink into the abyss
drowning or adrift I aggravatge you, aggregate!
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9. |
snakes on fire
04:34
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elongated time ago
between I was a boy & I became a man
I wasn't yet afraid of snakes on fire
until I found they burn all around
sizzle hiss at my cuff
sooty scales up my seam
snakes smolder in my spine
can you see that snake on fire?
long loaf of bread now scortched bare
can you smell the blackened bunch?
ablaze, these things no longer rare
but they've made me tough
& a little obscene
they strike & they hiss
& they burn me clean
it's nary enough
to assume that they're mean
they're just like you & me.
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10. |
molt of horn
04:29
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molt of horn
this evil has outgrown
this fanciful moaning.
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derek joe brockett
born in the USA 1971 to the sounds of black sabbath, marvin gaye, rolling stones, david bowie, and sly and the family stone. first e.p. on vinyl was recorded in oklahoma, 2001. all other releases recorded in oaxaca, mexico where the proverbial hat is hung. this is outsider's music with an existential twist and so no wonder why you've found yourself here. ... more
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