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"Rome wasn't built in a day, but several Wet Shoelaces CDs were..."  - Confucius

 

 

Fanfare for the Umbref King (all lyrics by E Aubrey Andrews)

 

"The Badship Lollipop Suite"

Being human is more dead than being known as a casualty of good existence.  He liked being more insane than the rest.  He'd always been crawling through the depths of the hardest ways in this heathen mind of his.  The rain falling always seemed to stabilize the trigger in his mind that kept putting his illness deeper and deeper into the lives of others.  He lived in the darkest remnants of his human life and loves.  He couldn't breathe without the hope of blue clear Asian eyes copping their tragic songs to the sorrows of his emptiness.  Leaving the sky in Vietnam was brutal to his wounded skull.  Breathing was impossible without war.  He painted faces of their echoed sorrows on his reality every night.  He sang the same shame, the same song, over and over again, to heal their tears.  (Don't you see?  Fuckin' guy's got a gun to his head...)

Will time forget if I don't escape?  Queen Needle caresses my skin.  She writes my death certificate.  She's cold, waiting, and I look to the skies, I watch seagulls falling, and I ask your forgiveness Father, for I have sinned.  And here we go again.  Here we go again.  Shatter the madness.  Take away the tears.  Fall away through this violent self I live.  Let me take the last walk to violent eyes of my children.

Scraping away the crust of distant sanity.  Don't think you're safe when you're falling, hiding away, bent from the truth that you're not there.  The end of the world will come.  Life might be okay for most, but I am severely limited, transitioned, ready for departure, waiting for something more evil than the green summer of dying suns.  And here we go again, one last time.  Here we go, the falling of the one last time.

 

"Living Within The Chaos Of Random Selection"

Being alone in one prison cell made him violent.  Living within the chaos of random selection made him dangerously insane.  Life for him was a diseased mistake.  He knew only one truth:  grow harder than ice if you're living to die.

 

"Resurrections of Rain"

I can't see the vulnerability within this victim as she runs away from the injustice of midnight's dirty smiles.  The rain falls in callings of heathen suicides.  The rain falls every midnight, every midnight.  My guilt insatiably needs to be free from the truth that I have lost my mind.  In the deep sorrow tears of her avenging eyes I remember sadness blown away across desolate highways of bitter rains.  Behold tragedy of somewhere without, yet there is nothing calling here, calling here.  And death comes so slowly, can't see her nightmares as she undresses in this presence of my savage eyes.  Dreams become the debris.  Winds whisper quiet epitaphs.  She takes pictures of bitter days spent somewhere other than here....

 

"A Crawling In My Veins"

You live in the city, feeling her warm caress against deception's dark reality.  Be afraid of yourself!  Be emotionally untied, haunted by being diagnosed insane.  Where you survive alone is too dangerous to be unsafe.  You won't sleep here or there anymore.  You will exist most nights on cheap tequila and two-dollar, comatose whores.  Stolen candlelight, taste of tattered pages found in a book by Kerouac, Ginsberg.  You live in the city.  Be afraid of yourself.  Be aware of the sweet sorrow reflections, the return of her Hiroshima whispers, as she finds you trespassing Atomic Avenue.