Sonar Bliss

[words 4/2-99, music 98]
 I'm the scenery of vendetta
 Mind and soul
 I'm the shapeless victory
 Order and suppression
 All in the tower of the virgin
 Triumphant in a pale gray light
 In despire of how to deal with it
 A sweet, turbulent intoxication
 Rapidly I yearn to bare the mark
 In a tragic understatement of the lions force
 A tribe who's independence is no longer
 Disturbed by the ragged interception of happy thorns
 As I face the whispering
 I answer to the master
 A biochemical trembling
 Voices in my head
 And thus I appear with wakeful eyes
 Trust insight
 A tedious dramatic implant
 Like swollen iron feeds itself,
 Longing for the moon
 Unbreakable and unborn
 Sifting the contents of the surface
 A ceremony of killers
 A scorched fucking snale
 In postures of gold
 That might be recognized
 But as long as there are shelters
 You'll always find yourself detained
 A huge defenseless atmosphere
 Wretched and toiled for centuries
 Is ever so tender as long as we're alive
 For it is with great wealth that I, declare this
 Flapping wings, tired monster
 Ruthless in folly frames
 Attempting gaiety upon sinister forces
 All within, we will win...