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Geometrik's "Upon A Midnight Stone"- OUT NOW!!
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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #3,076
Peak in subgenre #1,706
Author
Geometrik
Rights
Copyright 2004
Uploaded
November 19, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Baby wont you light my brush
with your five finger tips
flames bellow from your lips
and ignite black knights that sift
shameful naked bodies before
heaving them into a burning pit
together our mortal souls take on a shade
darker than onyx
at midnight
we’ll hang chains from a cross
and cover up the last tongue lash wound
with hand me down gauze
take a moment to pause
and scribe unwritten laws
hand them to the bourgeois
let them describe what they thought we saw
without stumbling over words
you can’t mistake black and white
the human psyche’s
ability to interpret
is often out of sight
believe us
cus we’ve been blessed
with the gift to force this process
on everyone
from kids to intellects
our intention is pure
but the trajectory- it’s obscure
and if you try to denounce our faith
we’ll strangle you with inspired words
your moral conduct is all wrong
so I stand on a marble soap box
and joyfully sing you a somber song
from a time period
where barbaric leaders made frequent appearances
so keep it alive
in the name of tradition and god fearing witnesses
these are our convictions
apprentices of mine have memorized
every one of the text’s sentences
verbatim
so they can freely change them
later on
under the half mast lids of our
famous mom
altering boys with metaphorical big arms
beckoning
do nothing without that sacred golden halo ring
listening
to the silence
produced inside asylums
mongers of righteous violence
we’re as cut and dry as science
listening
to the silence
produced inside a convent
recruiting is a contest
rooted in dominance
trusting dusty scriptures
changing fading concepts to fit words
designating branches for big birds
separation is key to keeping the herds
from breaking free
of medieval prophecy
a world of duality
we keep our motives shrouded in secrecy
obeying strict commands
pendulum swinging hippy killers
sensitive to incense
incentives manifest as donated cents
that erect podiums and pillars
wednesdays turn sinners to ash
and baptize the masses
at holy thursday mass
resurrection
regardless of the infection
whipped by deaf men
who culture death and penicillin
with feathered pens
plucked without permission
from a golden hen
giant goliath never stood a chance
in the name of righteousness we dance
around a virus ridden corpse
the stolen golden child
no future in sight
our prophets know this
they traveled for miles
in the name of the father
who’s son burnt out on prescription drugs
holy spirits dressed in bed sheets
carry his dreams with tommy guns
we can save both their souls from damnation
just give us the funds
the pope lives in a glass box
perhaps thats why Tommy guns
listen
to the silence
produced inside asylums
mongers of righteous violence
we’re as cut and dry as science
listening
to the silence
produced inside a convent
recruiting is a contest
rooted in dominance
rooted in dominance
played out through conquest
this life’s a contest for God’s eternal love
we seek only the best
physically fit but
socially inept
give us a chance to transform your percept
but we’re rooted in judgement
we’re rooted in judgement
only the purest of souls get into heaven
and yet somehow we still discredit Darwin...
