dark places bear dark thoughts

Oh how I dare to be the words that breed conspiracy

The church of poverty consecrating the host of their parasite

Sweet sweet irony radiating through the rotten dog-tooth masonry

Beat you to a bloody pulp, to get my unemployment benefit

Working for a living, even if I take your life instead

 

So it may come to your surprise

That my death is as worthless as my life

Maybe drop some cents on me wishing well

Begging and choosing is all I do before the market rings the closing bell

All bets are off, flameforests is all that’s left

What a rush, what a golden theft

 

Pumpguns to their head, an act of freedom to be oppressed

The rifts are closing to the center, the rifts are closing to the center

Bodies dragged to be shared and dismembered, I come to the conclusion that communism probably found it’s purest contender

The art of making trillions out of billions

 

Flip the pyramid upside-down so it can finally trickle down, let it all trickle down

 

 

 

 

guantanamo

I built a prison for death
It said:“ I was here before, you can’t hold me back.“
I lay desert sand around the hopeless isle
„No gnarshing sound when I come around.“ remarked the bonesome pile
Every window in my home I make a mirror prism
„I love your optimistic pessimism.“ laughed the blackness iridescent
So lay the tower now to rest, all your empires I do best.

journalism is dead

Down from this lonely mountain
I gracefully descend
A golden sunset crowning my head
Scars of castigation ornate my feeble back

Into the noise I step
Noble truth never sounded so much like regret
Role your eyes into your skull, tell me what you find
A man made tabernacel crossing the silver line

Sit next to me silence
I wan to know how you smell down here, how you sound
Your royalty speaks of abscence, or is it abstinence of lies?
At least you’re colorblind

Wash your hands before they see the stains
Of mortal man changing ink with the ordained
If you want a front row seat you better step over that body
They throw out the crashing plane

An old man says to me
„Go back to where you came from.
I for one will stay with the prayers and songs that turn greed into lead.“
I frown in disbelief, the wildfire still hasn’t reached this glade.
Old fool; journalism is dead.

 

 

krähen im mondlicht

Krächzen im gelogenen Mondlicht
Schwingen im Zwielicht
Ich vibriere im kosmischen Nichts

Umarmung in der Stille
Du bist das Fenster und ich die Zwille
Die das Glas zerbricht

Einer von vielen auf den Dächern dieser Stadt
Warten auf das Ende des Sommers, damit ich endlich gehen kann, Verlassen
Wie den Baum das Blatt

Die nackte, kalte Hand auf meinem Rücken
Wird zur Faust, Stein und Holz sind meine Knochen
Nur noch der Glanz des Elfenbeinturms kann mich entzücken
Und der Duft von frischem Fleisch kann mich locken

bodysnatcher (pothos)

No look and no touch can reverse time
And if Ceasers wounds could’nt speak, yours won’t even language in signs

Along this lonely creek you will find yourself
Mirror mirror tell me, mirror mirror tell me
My soul is hermaphrodite, but the body doesn’t match the mind
What am I?

The nidus of existence, an indifferent prediction
Everything in it’s right place, everything in it’s right place
Only a thanatophobe can be in love with this phrase
But you just want to be in love anyway

No one cares about their gifts
As long as they have them, as long as they fit

Along this lonely creek you will find yourself
Mirror mirror tell me, mirror mirror tell me
My soul is hermaphrodite, but the body doesn’t match the mind
What am I?

 

 

looking like a lamb

Tell me when you had enough
Pussy honey, sob story stuff
Tell me when you had enough
Of those wolf teeth hand cuffs

I don’t even know what freedom tastes like
But I’m still hungry to find out, still aroused
When fawn eyes rest themselfes in my clinched fists
Like that is something I would miss

Tell me when you had enough
Pussy honey, sob story stuff
Tell me when you had enough
Of those wolf teeth hand cuffs

Maybe one day we can clink our bloody cups
Picture how it turned out
‚Till then I’d rather be a wolf then a pup
What you call pack, I call crowd
Let me levitate the profane, while you prefer the profound
I’m good, you can bury yourself now
Don’t look like a lamb, when you’re surrounded by the fucking hounds