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The Existential Gentlemen
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Lament of the Visionary
Instrumental I'm empirical, metaphysical
Quite distressed at the dubious nature of
Proletariat, Judas Iscariot
Infernality
And I'm always amazed at the commoner's innate ability
To accept without question the constant oppression
From quarters that claim to be ever on their side
Like my fathers before me I
Stumble through focused aggression
To no uncertain end
Lay the pall over osseous matter
and deliver the crown
carried by the crone
blessed by blood and writ in stone
My people, unequal
Giving credence to lies meted out by the fly
In a mummer's disguise.
The shadows that sweep from the feet of the polyphemes
Devour all
Of the light that's emitted from dwindling holds of contention
And the ashes of heroes that scatter the alleys
Are all but forgotten and always I'm afraid
That the efforts of many are
Turned by the means of the few
And morally suspect.
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In the gutter runs the blood of the masses
By the abattoirs guilded in amethyst
I alone know what horrors await you
And the end of all is
Fear, furher, famine, malice, unending woe.
Now the flag has flown
Blessed by blood and what you've sown.
All meager in meter
Pass by with eyes to the sky
Set sail crooning 'life is an illusion'
While the angels that keep you are weeping inside.
The withering silence that
Screams through the firmament
Is nothing
And no one lives
To the end of his days without learning the truth about ruin
It's the sense of an on-coming train
That you thought you caught so many years ago I pray
That the lines on my face don't expose with unsettling candor
That nothing's what it seems.
I'm the enemy, Mephistopheles
Architect of society's dreams and I've
Lost the will to keep you safe from harm
Thy will be done
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