The Oracles Of Death

Realism

The Oracles Of Death

come with me in my fantasy
what are we most willing to achieve
the vain promises amidst a poison
a glue that sticks to resin
we are searching for a reason for being
perhaps I exist as a vapor then i am no more
a challenge to be free is a question of time
why does one equate logic for fear
burning bridges acting human in our noise pollution
a whisper in the shadow of a votex lost in time
does death hurt you the most or is is fear
the notion of laughter fills the midnight air
why should we care

we fucked ourselves from the beginning for not forgiving
now were being stuck behind emblems of drawrfed mules with heads cut off
the notion of road kill on the side
we should take things in stride
cosmic phonies with the unique benevolence of a structure decoy
this is the one that you worshipped
a coward who would take one third to follow suit
we fight, we f**k & we war
in our blue jeans lest I implore something more
try to even the score
walking zombies in search of death creatures of habit
the madness continues as they plunge in the same radical dispensation of centuries ago

Death to the radical
Death to the money w***e mongers who bring in the bacon
Death is the climax to what youv'e been faking
Fake freaks from hell all with a story to tell
blinded eyes as if bats
Neil Young had sang to pack it in and buy a pick up head out to L.A
find a place of his own and make a brand new day
no one has a voice anymore no one has a say
no one has the humble knee to ever bow and pray
what you claim it ought not be that way
frustration, vexation & masturbation
businessman come and drink the wine and dig the herb
wandering as if caged barbaric creatures trapped within
pillars of thought provoking heights that go soaring into the air
why should we care
Our victory conquers death
to have faith in a substance that's unseen while living in a land so very mean
things falling apart at the seams

the fascist is crazy but leave my friend alone the legend Wavy Gravy
we are all one quart short in our fuel for life a sense of added spice
there is a direct correlation between that of love and hate call it fate
we quiver at the long lines at the D.M.V.
all of life seems to be a great mystery
yet what did Milton & the prophets explain
life to some is but a game
carry on my wayward son have some fun now out in the sun