Гуру ПесенOrgone - Void of Course (2014, The Joyless Parson) | Текст песни
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...the brush of a coarse drape against an open wound, which will seal itself in wilted skin and plummet into a mine of violent isolation, where the oracles are swallowed, broken teeth and transformed into rigid, immovable stone.
The sage brush in the pit of his throat, guards against the output of hope and he maniacally dances in a river of depraved, life-denying conclusions whose tributaries spread deprivation and the mangled shadows of his flailing, barbarous limbs flickers of weak, damp
electricity in a condemned building whose tenant brandishes bouquets of unnatural deadness and rests in slabs of seconds.
Cross-eyed from dementia, veins either frigidly inactive or pulsating uncontrollably, he quivers in each complicated moment as spiders graze upon his shoulder, extract his blood in the truth of daylight and he yields to annihilation's crawl
On clear nights he dissipates into thousands of salmon-colored specs and plasters his body to a remote stone wall, to hear the faint sounds of a pipe organ which with each pressed pedal, resuscitates his tired lungs with vibrant air crumbling the prisons of cacophonous
thought, pausing the clamor of exhausted shoes flooding his garden of embitterment
But when the sensation has diminished, he feels unworthy of pleasure a dragon whose heart has bursted from guarding alone a cache of treasure which no one values and no one visits.
Omens appear above me, threading the borders of reality and boundless chaos the stirring evidence of our dialogue, a cross-dimensional collage pasted by stable, determined hands, which expand and creak like aging floors intent on sharing the pains of growth.
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