Heavy metal is the law Prisoners
Everybody wants you [dead]
Suspicius bullets - silent guns.
Here's where the men wear pride outside and women smile through dragonflies.
You were supposed to wait for me, that's how I built this up to be.
I'm the kill the retriever coudn't find, the round that got away.
Just leave my corpse to feed the worms, I'll soon just dissipate.
I'm going straight to hell and you're coming with me!
Yesterday's air suffocates me.
See, I have this gift to give to you. Take it carefully, it's yours.
Time's up, get on board, you're coming with me.
It's hard to watch you crumble, watch the flames lick your complexion bare, removing the pretense that you cared.
Flying birds like kites, my eyes are so full of sun I don't know how I'll ever learn your language.
My faith is strong, can't break the bonds, despite the lack of proof.
Majority always wins, I've chosen my weapons.
I'm devolving this place - you can't have slaughter without laughter.
Sure, I'm guilty. Still, you're coming with me!
You still have theh power to reshape - do not let this escalate
Textbook nebula authentic to the World Orderâs end.
Donât call my landscape a plane, you increate egoist!
Youâre merely a hallucination of my own atmis!
Impatiently arranging for evolutionâs recrudescence.
Through strategic seeds planted inside. Weâre much safer self-preserved.
No, the watch dogs arenât robots.
They canât defend against their lures.
We all fear the last few inches but theyâre so far out, weâre blind.
Yes Iâll do my best to protect you but your disobedience intrudes.
What a contradictory statement â suicidal self-preservationist.
With the four working against me Iâm powerless and losing sight!
Parrot, squatting on your throne, mentally captured, are you? Foot-soldered concrete rooted in basement, alone. Corporeality relinquished. Fictive molecules revolt. Soliloquies like apparition of a long forgotten ghost. Lonely Solipsist, sculpture squatting in a cell! Anchored pedometry, concrete throne. Posture vocal like your inflective prose, tethered philosophy, encrypted psychiatry. Powers of rendition on a capricious world, a pawn. Monet inclination for thoughts spoken â never heard. Tragic auditorium for one Pygmalion soul. Manas in transcendence through an infinite cosmos. Destruction. Destruction is the ultimate creation so, your children, donât regret. Like those to their divine inventions, like all to the planet. So, Lonely Solipsist, what rhyparography floods my eyes? Bituminoid lucidity, in trafficked lumens, hides. What would happen if your trompe-lâoeil was exposed? One brain stacked up eight heads high in perfect proportion. Gravid knowledge crush the skulls in savage rebellion. Design by observation, translated erudition, so many creators cognitively collide like a pride of pansychics. Upon whom redounds this insistent obloguy? Power of observer granted power of intent. The Painterâs brush the Writerâs words, the sinners repent. I declare this pen a syringe! Injecting foreign brains! Obligor objectivist base knowledge on fiction anyways. Pass the blame like nested Russian Dolls, inertly decaying. Smite the epiphenomenalism! Erase those bound to faith!
An absolute nightmare â not having footing to flee.
King of carcass, Iâll drown in is death.
Flesh weighs more than atmosphere â whatâ keeping them afloat?
Still you stare, waiting for the shipwrecks and ghosts. The moon mocks you with a knowing grin. Or, is that the lure of a distant angler fish? Was your role fulfilled? Was that it? Are you face up or face down? Cardinal points are semantic, geometry is religion for mathematicians. The womb that birthed us keep us close Rebellious organs give up early, abandoning ship. The air feels hydrogen-heavy. Your elements are individualizing. Red algae pours across the panorama. Colored film fills your eyes, matching the bed expanding beneath you. With every once you lose, you forget you ever feared youâre physically free. One who survives mass suicide gather the masses to blindly follow. Intonations camouflage obvious idiocy. Approachable outside to welcome them in. Black holes set in spin. A resource more valuable than we expect, wrangled together to redirect. Iâve been around this place before, I recognize the heavy doors opening on the entrance way, molding a populace out of clay
Stuck in the earth, weâll stay.
I just wrote to tell you this; I did just my very best. I went far but got stuck there. I picked up the pieces, I was your vigilant soldier but the mass of the earth just weighed too heavily on me. How can truth be opinion? How can fact be right and wrong? The familiar turned strange, good and evil unhinged. My utilitarian comfort unsettled. Consequentialist moral reasons categorically examined. Self-knowledge is a loss of innocence! I heard your call to arms, set off the doomsday alarm, but never heard back. So, I set out alone. I donât believe all Iâve been shown. A quest for truth and fact. I passed a desert town. Uninhabitable pastures of ash brown. Abandoned structures littered like an Aerstan scene. But then desperate people appeared. They had lived in constant drought for ten years ever since pollution got the best of them â wiped them clean. So, I thought "Iâll take their curse away! Let them flourish, Iâll take the pain." I lifted their drought and went on my way. So Iâm asking you, help me carry? Iâm Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Wonât someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. The journey is bitter-sweet. Logic and consistency do not mix with morality. Justify your atrocities, the trump card never fails. Remove the greed and the ego, and the consciences prevails. No longer empty-handed, I stopped at the coast to rest but found a flood of people drowning in a sea of hatred. They begged and pleaded "End this war! Have acceptance and peace restored!" So, I drank up all their poison oaths. So Iâm asking you help me carry? Iâm Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Wonât someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. Thereâs nothing left but wrong with me. Global systems all degrading. Iâll take the problems so the World can breathe. And I have nowhere to take thewm so, forever theyâll accompany me. The future is much longer than the past. I picked up wrongs along the way, removed them from the mass. But I still had to jettison things to outrun gravity and not wanting to further pollute. I just left behind parts of me. Iâm collecting your tradition, your religion, your depression. Iâm trading in your affection to put us all to sleep. So here I lay, bent shoulders, broken ribs. I sink into the earth and all I can hope is to take this baggage to the grave â one more step I cannot take â by the time you read this Iâll have passed away.
But â guess what! I win, you lose.
How funny, what you show when youâve got nothing to prove.
To see your face when youâve got no one left.
Familiar eyes are rabid, transplanted to a strangerâs skull.
How am I to keep you happy, healthy and strong when you harbor such infection, such scar tissue in your bones. I didnât think dysplasia would so affect it. You know, tonight there is a crime to commit.
Iâm thinking it through â Iâm convinced itâs true. Youâre the beach of my attention but the tide is coming in. Will you buckle down like barnacles, a one-time contagion?
Will you passively wade away like layers of pollution? Or will you still be holding your breath when tides go out again? What happened to what you thought of me? I shattered all the imagery. The pretense was a forgery â I really am what I present. You know, tonight thereâs a crime to commit and Iâm the criminal, victim and punishment.
Devrais-je les libÃ©rer? [French: Should I release them?]
Heavy metal is the law Prisoners
Everybody wants you [dead]
Suspicius bullets - silent guns.
Here's where the men wear pride outside and women smile through dragonflies.
You were supposed to wait for me, that's how I built this up to be.
I'm the kill the retriever coudn't find, the round that got away.
Just leave my corpse to feed the worms, I'll soon just dissipate.
I'm going straight to hell and you're coming with me!
Yesterday's air suffocates me.
See, I have this gift to give to you. Take it carefully, it's yours.
Time's up, get on board, you're coming with me.
It's hard to watch you crumble, watch the flames lick your complexion bare, removing the pretense that you cared.
Flying birds like kites, my eyes are so full of sun I don't know how I'll ever learn your language.
My faith is strong, can't break the bonds, despite the lack of proof.
Majority always wins, I've chosen my weapons.
I'm devolving this place - you can't have slaughter without laughter.
Sure, I'm guilty. Still, you're coming with me!
You still have theh power to reshape - do not let this escalate
Textbook nebula authentic to the World Orderâs end.
Donât call my landscape a plane, you increate egoist!
Youâre merely a hallucination of my own atmis!
Impatiently arranging for evolutionâs recrudescence.
Through strategic seeds planted inside. Weâre much safer self-preserved.
No, the watch dogs arenât robots.
They canât defend against their lures.
We all fear the last few inches but theyâre so far out, weâre blind.
Yes Iâll do my best to protect you but your disobedience intrudes.
What a contradictory statement â suicidal self-preservationist.
With the four working against me Iâm powerless and losing sight!
Parrot, squatting on your throne, mentally captured, are you? Foot-soldered concrete rooted in basement, alone. Corporeality relinquished. Fictive molecules revolt. Soliloquies like apparition of a long forgotten ghost. Lonely Solipsist, sculpture squatting in a cell! Anchored pedometry, concrete throne. Posture vocal like your inflective prose, tethered philosophy, encrypted psychiatry. Powers of rendition on a capricious world, a pawn. Monet inclination for thoughts spoken â never heard. Tragic auditorium for one Pygmalion soul. Manas in transcendence through an infinite cosmos. Destruction. Destruction is the ultimate creation so, your children, donât regret. Like those to their divine inventions, like all to the planet. So, Lonely Solipsist, what rhyparography floods my eyes? Bituminoid lucidity, in trafficked lumens, hides. What would happen if your trompe-lâoeil was exposed? One brain stacked up eight heads high in perfect proportion. Gravid knowledge crush the skulls in savage rebellion. Design by observation, translated erudition, so many creators cognitively collide like a pride of pansychics. Upon whom redounds this insistent obloguy? Power of observer granted power of intent. The Painterâs brush the Writerâs words, the sinners repent. I declare this pen a syringe! Injecting foreign brains! Obligor objectivist base knowledge on fiction anyways. Pass the blame like nested Russian Dolls, inertly decaying. Smite the epiphenomenalism! Erase those bound to faith!
An absolute nightmare â not having footing to flee.
King of carcass, Iâll drown in is death.
Flesh weighs more than atmosphere â whatâ keeping them afloat?
Still you stare, waiting for the shipwrecks and ghosts. The moon mocks you with a knowing grin. Or, is that the lure of a distant angler fish? Was your role fulfilled? Was that it? Are you face up or face down? Cardinal points are semantic, geometry is religion for mathematicians. The womb that birthed us keep us close Rebellious organs give up early, abandoning ship. The air feels hydrogen-heavy. Your elements are individualizing. Red algae pours across the panorama. Colored film fills your eyes, matching the bed expanding beneath y
ou. With every once you lose, you forget you ever feared youâre physically free. One who survives mass suicide gather the masses to blindly follow. Intonations camouflage obvious idiocy. Approachable outside to welcome them in. Black holes set in spin. A resource more valuable than we expect, wrangled together to redirect. Iâve been around this place before, I recognize the heavy doors opening on the entrance way, molding a populace out of clay
Stuck in the earth, weâll stay.
I just wrote to tell you this; I did just my very best. I went far but got stuck there. I picked up the pieces, I was your vigilant soldier but the mass of the earth just weighed too heavily on me. How can truth be opinion? How can fact be right and wrong? The familiar turned strange, good and evil unhinged. My utilitarian comfort unsettled. Consequentialist moral reasons categorically examined. Self-knowledge is a loss of innocence! I heard your call to arms, set off the doomsday alarm, but never heard back. So, I set out alone. I donât believe all Iâve been shown. A quest for truth and fact. I passed a desert town. Uninhabitable pastures of ash brown. Abandoned structures littered like an Aerstan scene. But then desperate people appeared. They had lived in constant drought for ten years ever since pollution got the best of them â wiped them clean. So, I thought "Iâll take their curse away! Let them flourish, Iâll take the pain." I lifted their drought and went on my way. So Iâm asking you, help me carry? Iâm Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Wonât someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. The journey is bitter-sweet. Logic and consistency do not mix with morality. Justify your atrocities, the trump card never fails. Remove the greed and the ego, and the consciences prevails. No longer empty-handed, I stopped at the coast to rest but found a flood of people drowning in a sea of hatred. They begged and pleaded "End this war! Have acceptance and peace restored!" So, I drank up all their poison oaths. So Iâm asking you help me carry? Iâm Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Wonât someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. Thereâs nothing left but wrong with me. Global systems all degrading. Iâll take the problems so the World can breathe. And I have nowhere to take thewm so, forever theyâll accompany me. The future is much longer than the past. I picked up wrongs along the way, removed them from the mass. But I still had to jettison things to outrun gravity and not wanting to further pollute. I just left behind parts of me. Iâm collecting your tradition, your religion, your depression. Iâm trading in your affection to put us all to sleep. So here I lay, bent shoulders, broken ribs. I sink into the earth and all I can hope is to take this baggage to the grave â one more step I cannot take â by the time you read this Iâll have passed away.
But â guess what! I win, you lose.
How funny, what you show when youâve got nothing to prove.
To see your face when youâve got no one left.
Familiar eyes are rabid, transplanted to a strangerâs skull.
How am I to keep you happy, healthy and strong when you harbor such infection, such scar tissue in your bones. I didnât think dysplasia would so affect it. You know, tonight there is a crime to commit.
Iâm thinking it through â Iâm convinced itâs true. Youâre the beach of my attention but the tide is coming in. Will you buckle down like barnacles, a one-time contagion?
Will you passively wade away like layers of pollution? Or will you still be holding your breath when tides go out again? What happened to what you thought of me? I shattered all the imagery. The pretense was a forgery â I really am what I present. You know, tonight thereâs a crime to commit and Iâm the criminal, victim and punishment.
Devrais-je les libÃ©rer? [French: Should I release them?]