The Hyperborean Winter

PART 1


Nobody hears when I'm screaming in digital
Tired of smashing through cultural barriers,
I sink deeper into myself

I stare into her eyes and behold a void,
The empty carcus of a beautiful woman -
No soul left? Just dollar signs and hours?

If inner depth only existed!

I offer no security, no homestead or capital
I offer no business-as-usual, no lies
I can't set you free, but this is no crime
Forgive me if I fail to pay homage
To your Daily Grind

Those with depth will not be neutralized

Our thoughts are put in place by propaganda machines
I wonder which thoughts are truly my own
Shall we breed slaves for the State?
I am the Holy Grandfather of an Unborn Tribe
The Devil Himself can't even look into my eyes!

In a world of jobs and money,
Is there a place for human emotion?
During the age of brilliant hip-hop artists,
Is there a place for stream of consciousness lyrics?
In a world of bank accounts and tax returns,
How can a tribe exist?

Count me among the intellectual outlaws
I condemn myself, no evidence required
Why do I feel a bond with the outlaw class?
Because I feel a million miles away from model citizens

I search the eyes of hard working slaves
I can't blame them
What would I have them do - starve?
I was one of them too, but now I rebel
And I have to admit, I am hungry as hell!

Daily, I recover from the insult of
Their false sense of security
Their false sense of superiority
Their shallowness and their kiss-ass subservience

I cry out, "Stop! You're killing me!"

I'll take my chances with Grandmother Earth
At least she will cleanse me through death
She has whispered to me, "Child, save your breath."
She says I pay you too much honor,
And that She will teach you all some humility in Good Time

No work, no food, no love, no thanks
Love isn't locked away in the World Banks
I spit in the face of your most treasured belief,
The belief that your strong work ethic
Justifies your killing me insidiously

The fakeness of polite society is nausiating
At least have the dignity to bitch and moan
What is everyone so afraid of?
Are you afraid of being hungry?
Afraid of the cold?
Afraid of being alone and old?

I would free your mind, if I only could
But then you would blame me for shattering your illusions
And how could I ever break through
To one as hypnotized as you?
You don't have a clue why you do as you do

Those who perpetuate the work ethic praise you
Wow! Isn't that great?
Slavery transformed into heroism
Like Christ on the cross, you forgive the boss
Who daily nails your life to his cash register

She is a daughter doing her best in the wage-slave factory
She wears a fake smile for a fake world
She says she's doing OK and feeling well
Meanwhile she's tormented by inner demons from Hell

Is it just as well that she stays in her cage?
How many years of her life will be stolen
From her before she becomes aware of
The bars of her invisible cell?

In this prison colony world,
Where our bodies are literally machines that make money
In order to sleep indoors, shit into toilets,
And have access to items kept under lock and key,

Resistance is futile
Turn on the TV, rev up the SUV
Feed your children prozac,
Turn your radical brother into the authorities
Divorce your husband if he would rather live in the woods
Than help with the finishing touches of the Takerville Matrix


PART 2

I search for depth in those I encounter
But I have not seen it

By sick parents and sick teachers,
Still sicker children are brought up
Until the sick has now become the norm
And the healthy a horror

Some of us are poor consumers,
Chemically imbalanced, unpredictable, out of control,
Manic, psychotic, too emotional, too honest,
A psychological drain on the War Machine Economy
We see too much, we feel too deep

From lone beings are born even lonelier ones
From the frightened come more frightened ones
Where might even one seed of truth be hiding away?
Could it be me? Could it be you?
How can a seed take root in toxic soil?

Where can anything lead?

The Aborigine could shout out to the multitudes
At a great festival over a loud speaker -
Anyone of us could do the same as the presence of great spirit -
Our shouts would only reach a few eardrums
Only a few will hear
Only a few are even able to hear
Only the truthful are able to receive the truth,
So our shouts would bounce back as vacuous sound

I am a cog
We of the Industrial World Prison Complex are all cogs
I am a being who has been robbed of life
We born into the Industrial Prison Colonies
Are beings who have been robbed of our lives

But, what's this?
Am I still alive?
In spite of all they have robbed me of,
I am still alive

In spite of the soul-killing mind-numbing meritocracy,
Stirrings from my inner depths still shock me
Out of conformity

Who can blame me for dropping out of this Race?
I will tell you right now, without shame or false-pride,
I may be too good for this world
And I'm not at all afraid to die

That's right, I said it
Let it be known
I work for no man,
My life is my own

When I speak, they hear themselves
When I move and exist, it is themselves they fear
In my bearing, through my own breath,
I vow to spread discontent
Let us distrust our future

The State Machinery does not have the capacity to grasp the truth
For the State is an abstract idea in our heads
Shall death render us innocuous?
What does it matter?

Those with eyes shall see,
And sight will be its own reward

Your BMW does not love you back
You'll die at the wheel from a heart attack
Automobiles will be artifacts
In the ruins of The Culture of Death

I tell you, Children, this world wants to rob your lives!
I have no ego left to defend so I weep for us all
Whatever drugs you take to pull you through
Don't ever let these bastards define you
You tell them who you are

TV Land reporters and radio hosts
Criticize Whitney Houston for seeking oblivion
Meanwhile the tanks of power roll into emptiness
We don't need a war on drugs
We need a war on greed

Cancel the World Series!
Destroy every automobile on the face of the earth!
Clean water and clean air take precedence
Over the bank accounts you spend your lives filling
Just as long as King George keeps sniffing for oil
Drilling for oil and killing

Is there a sacred place where fate reverses itself?
I don't think the gods of the industrial world
Will surrender their power voluntarily

Afraid and psychologically alone,
People get trapped in the satanic web
Trained to obey clocks so as to be controlled more easily
Even trained to obey buzzers so the fries don't burn
Let em' burn, I guess I am just too dumb to learn

My body has a mind of its own
It does not obey buzzers
First I resist it, then I totally reject it
Escaping from the matrix,
I'll be back to destroy it