The Answer Is 42

Pondering on question, looking for the answer. Your life now sleeps away, tomorrow is today. Who was it. Why was it. What is it. When was it. Was it god. Was it lies. Was it flesh. Where is it. Where you go when your body dies.Let us debate the question of mankind’s origin, the reason for existence and where you go when your body dies. Forty-two - The final answer, SIX TIMES NINE - we apologyze for the inconvenience.

You Are Now Here

I used to be going nowhere and now I finally got there. I think I really like it here, in front of me, the road’s now clear. Kick off my dusty shoes, take a deep breath, re-access my thoughts, rise up and walk again. Which direction must I take, give the inevitable a break. Get on the same old road, but this time with a heavier load.

The Illusion Of Free Will

The illusion of free will overflows and it spills on the burning in your mindof decisions left behind. I can think for myself, I’m not a puppet. Is this where I wanted to be, was this the choice I made. The illusion of free will - own thought.

Time And Again

There are still times when I think about the lies - and the hunger I had. I still think about belief or the lack of which I now have. You will never see me drown. Time and again, waiting, watching, breathing pathiently. Time and again, foolish, childishm idiot, desperate. Time and again, trusting, listening, begging for more. Lies, lies you keep inside, you think you can hide. Not everyone’s stupid, blind. One day, you’ll be left behind.

Punching Bag

For the second last fucking time, Jesus Christ is dead, get that in your head. Hardcore atheist, your life you blame on god. Hit it with your fist, hate him ‘cause you exist. Suffering and strife your whole fucking life. Now your god’s to blame for famine and for pain. Man created god to blame for his mistakes.

I’m A Cunt

Would you please spit on me, I’m a cunt, plain to see. It’s something I never denied, why do you act surprised. And when I’m down kick me in the face, I deserve to have my jaw dosèlaced. You can’t say that you weren’t warned. Don’t you wish I was never born. Look past my exterior, forget your first impression, don’t you feel inferior, take my word for it, I’m a fucking cunt. Kick me, hit me, shoot me, slab me, rape me.

Hail The Conquerors

Can you see them coming through the ages, conquerors from afar. Written on the pages, brave conquistador. Open, heartfelt welcome, the shores of the promised land. Hold the king to ransom, let them eat out of your hands. Land ahead. They bring us salvation, the new world religion, godlike adoration, the truth slowly unfolds. Falling on to your knees, you will embrace their faces, their rules . your hat. Subdued, constrained, cursing your fate.

Nothing To Say

Nothing much to say, nothing much to add. Nothing left constructive, nothing to be had. No new messiah, no subversive plot, everything is repetition, the motherfucking lot.

The Lies That Bind Us

Privileged we were, the chosen few we were led to believe. Independent media reports and education design to distort. Now the sacred blood of our forefathers is flowing through the street gutters. Scapegoat of hate are now bound together and led to the altar of total onslaughter. The lies that bind us as lay broken behind us. in the dust of silence the truth shall remind us. We taught our children the white man’s justice. Vengeance is rising , retribution upon us. Now in the spirit to reconcile, justice is served too late. Public outcrise of indecision, clouding our moral visions. In our mind’s eye we can sympathize but we still couldn’t give a fucking shit. Perceptions may change but the legacy of our past will always remain. Lies. It binds us, it blinds us it finds us, will never ever be behind us.

Alien

Eagerly awaiting your arrival, come set your creations free from doubt and anticipation. The time for truth small be. It has come full circle, prophecy to fulfil. You have been amongst us and influenced our will.

What You Want And What You Get

What you really want and what you end up getting is often is not what your actions were intending. Sometimes you get nothing and sometimes you’ll be fucked. Maybe in the end it all comes down to luck.

Old

This is me, reminiscence about the future to be. Calm coldness, enveloping my youthful boldness. Suburban dreams, Calvinistic time has come to redeem. Sitting at the bustop, not going nowhere. Craving Human contact, but no one around here cares.