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SCHOLOMANCE LYRICS
"The Immortality Murder" (2002)
1. Part I: Absence/Contorted Porcelain-faced bitch
2. Part II: Childless one.../The Body As Sulphur Stench
3. Part III: Matriarch
4. Part IV: Her Iniquity Uncovered/The Eastern Trinity Unexplained
5. Virus (The Theft of Knowledge)
6. Companionship and Philosophical Fire (The Third)
7. Bedevilment and Bewilderment (Reality Greets the Moral Whore)
8. The Next Step (For the Sake of the Greater Whole)
9. How Familiar I Am...
10. A Riddle...
11. Part IV: Her Iniquity Uncovered/The Eastern Trinity Unexplained
12. Additions
1. Part I: Absence/Contorted Porcelain-faced bitch
Some things occurred to me this night. Nothing is for or about you. "You are not worth immortalizing." Previous immortalizations were passing instances of fanciful anger and snow-blind confusion. It is not I... I have not changed. My hand still writes, my eyes still strain and I still understand you. Only I now understand you are not as I once thought or hoped. The first exultant whore had a glutton's wealth of lovely attributes in comparison to your wallowing appearance of being strong and intelligent. The philosopher does not exist in this letter. The scholar will attain nothing because you are nothing, a forced, reconstituted nothing, which at one time had just potential for beauty and for a soul. I digress... had I truly understood you in the beginning, this would not have drudged on for this length.
How was it that I refered to it? Oh, "the other" or "the third," as if there was ever even a first. Striking during failure and disappointment. Hair caught roaming among barbed wire, leaning through to step on unfriendly domestic ground. I can calculate more points to three but abiding a punisher's rules prevents victory. Would it be victory? Even if slain, would it not be victory won?
Some things occurred to me this night. Nothing is for or about you. "You are not worth immortalizing." Previous immortalizations were passing instances of fanciful anger and snow-blind confusion. It is not I... I have not changed. My hand still writes, my eyes still strain and I still understand you.
"Burn, burn, burn, all my blessed children of Sodom, for I created you to suffer savage hatred." I think even if the first were eternally obtained, the third would remain ablaze. I am not rambling enough for my own entertainment, but a decision has been made... for no fear can match this confinement.
2. Part II: Childless one.../The Body As Sulphur Stench
...and if I am as beautiful as your words portray, then journey through their hell. Journey through the crooked caverns and youth devouring thorns. Journey as the flesh flays and the joyful expressions are lifted from your face. Wish me in hell. Is this hell to you? "Blessed o' ye Childless One, bleed forth so that we may drink of your ambrosial pain." Lack the desire to breed yet desire the act, the act of advancing and staining silk and cotton. As if I were beautiful, no more than a frightening image to intimidate the Uninitiated, the Sheltered and the Lacking. You... as my encouragement to proceed with trials and tribulations. Cliches and contradictions and the overbearing desire to lash you, lash you to your pearly gates.
Succulent, the copper taste. The shadows of eternal dusk. The pits covered anew and the visitations. Bodies everywhere... how many decayed corpses do I walk upon and how many innocents have been stolen from us? Would they themselves have learned to kill? Dismemberment, a grimace-vision along with the disinterred, in a cage, a Freudian reasoning for confinement, for sexual ambiguity, Easter colored by a lunar needle and surgical steel grin. When she peers over the edge, looking, looking...
(Succulent, the copper taste. The shadows of eternal dusk. The pits covered anew and the visitations. Bodies everywhere...)
...expecting fly-fed death to lie stinking and festering below. "It is not uncommon. It happens all the time." Maggots anchor themselves, thriving opaque glares, emptiness, pain save me, the Child of the Childless One.
3. Part III: Matriarch
Covered blanketed face, Holy Mother, cowering bedside hide. I stood with uncalloused palm on the sweat of her skin, my breath chilling in the air, everything a shade of earthen brown, termite wooden walls and uprooted flooring, an iron post bed, brick paint chipped, one frosted window with florescent light outside. I did not know it was her... beneath gray wool and blue mortified eyes. Recurrence of the spectre beforehand, previous to placement. "I will gut her. You will witness my miracle." I thought the expanding red spots on the lily-white bed clothes to be cherry stains... or I wanted them to be such. That would have saved me from the hooked tip of the hunting knife, forcing through the sternum from the back. Oh shrouded Death, nary even a salvitating smirk to be seen, brandishing a convenient modern scythe. And yet we were dead before the lungs were even punctured, before the ribs cracked and the vertebrae twisted and split.
...forcing through the sternum from the back. Oh shrouded Death, nary even a salvitating smirk to be seen, brandishing a convenient modern scythe. And yet we were dead before the lungs were even punctured, before the ribs cracked and the vertebrae twisted and split.
...an iron post bed, brick paint chipped, one frosted window with florescent light outside. I did not know it was her... beneath gray wool and blue mortified eyes. Recurrence of the spectre beforehand...
4. Part IV: Her Iniquity Uncovered/The Eastern Trinity Unexplained
I bare witness to my own sickening dreams. I bare my blemish and bare your iniquty. Uncover thy nakedness. "Their blood shall be upon them." For the gaping wounds we have suffered at the blood-drenched hands of Christ. Rip the paper wings from their gleeful angels and freeze their ideals as shards of ice. Oblivious to defeat, weakness is cherished. Do not come to me with weeping... with tears. My altars are of blood, my gates of flesh. Come to me with sanctity of truth, be it lust or love. No words exist for being this... no gestures of arthritic hands or curved spines, no expressions of pious, aged brows or down-turned heads. We are 20th century lepers cast out into a swarming mass of prejudiced fools... but be aware of how familiar I am with my enemies.
How lovely it must be for your kind, to remain ever blind. Through the same course of my years, through the sacred moralistic path of jade, I will return to the thrid factor, the Eastern triangle on which I tread. And the third becomes the pinnacle of light, the singular source of wanton need. An uncaring god sends me a riddle. "Choose, my son." My guess was lost by con(science). Now you expect worship? If I save praise you will take away the wrong and leave me stark raving rabid insane... with nothing. Nothing, but my disease ridden thoughts that tell me I must hate you, always testing to see my failures ravage me... but here, here, here is where your lie ends, for I can not, will not, hate that which I have not first loved.
5. Virus (The Theft of Knowledge)
Gather my children, grant heed the elder
Time will now pass its widsom down
All must cease, to take in this splendor, Script forseen shall come to be
Call on the winds we ride with the Tempest
To distant stars searching for truth, To spread like a plague, with knowledge our virus
Infecting oppression, while stealing back our lives
Shattered chains no longer bind, that which gives our culture
life, In rebirth, our minds thrive. These strengths increase with passing time.
Deliver us beyond the seas, to lay foot on shores of neverdawn,
Silhouettes of dusk-drawn trees, screaming hymns to brothers lost
Endless rain cannot wash away, the traces of heaven, born-of-earth we forsake
Omniscience, a shadow cast goal, but desire aflame cannot be quenched
Enlighten us, the bondage estranged, ever parched for proof and reason
Monuments will not please need, to none shall we bow or lend endowment
- Lust which cannot be concieved, will not bend, nor sway, beneath ignorance
Strive to know, to recognize progression - Defiant of burden faced in man's retrogression
Call on the winds we ride with the tempest. To distant stars,
Searching for truth, To spread like a plague, with knowledge our virus,
Infecting oppression, while stealing back our lives.
6. Companionship and Philosophical Fire (The Third)
Convincing of a conviction, in search for a fellow seeker
A foregone neccessity through attributes of purity
Become tainted with spoiled fruits and crystals of salt
A transparent abuse through manipulations of gratification
Would you jump? Would you leap from your mountains
Held erect by sinking sands and smoldering ashes?
Evolution... that is what we must achieve. Beyond any Darwinian concept of adaptation. The evolution of few transcends physical might and must be welcomed and recognized, if only by the one who evolves. Healing one's self becomes a constant process of suffering for enlightenment.
Enlightenment of a liar, pursuit of poetic slavery
A depressing need for the rusted keys of the locks to be lost
Become broken off in the holes, blocking the way of the next key
A driftwood gate which has no hinges, no ability to open
What in the hell is happening to us? Can we not see the alchemical solution? Spoken but settled for. We can have so much more. I'm sick of being avoided.
Avoidance of the present presence, flee like a cockroach from light
An abandonment of common sense and social rules
Become fortunately forgotten
7. Bedevilment and Bewilderment (Reality Greets the Moral Whore)
Oh, bedeviled friend, I am possessed, I am possessed
(I told you it would come to pass)
I am here to entertain sanguine thoughts of you in restraints.
Why must you be the whore in denial?
I am here to entertain ridiculous notions of myself in happiness.
Silent lipped, the queen takes her quivering pawn.
Move me into the black squares so that four walls of absence encase me.
Shall I be taken down into your bones such as this?
Such as I am, why do I try to please a faceless stone?
Sooner should pearls roll down my back...
(Sooner should flesh pass my lips)
Come. Let them all come.
They shall leave, yelping like dogs and later making claims of convenient negativity.
Then shall I send Reality to these slaves
And their deified whore who writes her name in festering wounds into my chest.
Only later to change her name and leave this sickening scar ground into my ribs.
Love, my unattained, let me hide you from the whore.
Let me plant you along shores of my fathomless lake.
Let me hold you and hear you say why I cannot have you.
Lie to me and you may one day fall into my lake of rescued souls,
For you may be in Nature's dream.
When Nature awakes, she will go.
Keep me close and you may one day enter my paradise only animals know.
This one, she was not the first whore,
But one of the lineage of sightless crows.
She had me place downy feathers on her wings,
Yet refused to attempt flight and yet she fled in a different way.
The way of monotony of her kind.
Predictable.
Here I am attatched like a twin.
Just because I touched you does not mean I want your printless fingers on my skin.
I don't want to dance again. I don't want to dance again...
8. The Next Step (For the Sake of the Greater Whole)
Sprialing regression, I reflect upon the past to face the future.
Direction; lost in a puzzling lapse of judgement. Confusion slips deep
into my consciousness. Pulling me so much further, than reason could ever withstand.
My vision roaming through sound, as I listen to vivid
colors. Juxtaposing fragments, for the sake of the greater whole.
Devouring information, facts to fuel the creative wars. In turn will give way to advancements unimaginable.
Left behind the false concepts of infinity/eternity... Looking down upon the waning
gods, impious, a truly omnipotent view. Birth of a new Hierarchy that
will outlast the brilliance of the stars. There are those who speak against this prophecy.
What Filth! What will their meager words mean when they become the
habitat of worms? Caverns in which the vermin shall play and procreate. This their lone purpose, at last.
No, their criticisms mean little as this testimony
manifests. Generation after generation, my name is ever more empowered.
Beyond I say! Shall the echoes of greatness bring about avalanches to devour
the opposers of this testament. Those baneful, lecherous
children of servitude! This evolution has already begun. Unbeknownst
they shall stagnate in their satisfactory non-existance.
What began as near breakdown has produced revelation. A
flirting bout with insanity, or waking to grand realizations? I have
gained so much more than I have ever lost. Do not judge me wearied
or weak, I am psychologically beyond reproach. What is gone from me was
expendable, merely the last aspects of my humanity, of guilt, morality...
All traces gone! Beware the dawn, for the next evolution has long since begun!
9. How Familiar I Am...
10. A Riddle...
11. Part IV: Her Iniquity Uncovered/The Eastern Trinity Unexplained
12. Additions
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