Relentless Mutation Lyrics Album by Archspire
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Album Lyrics
1. Involuntary Doppelgänger
Dead lives rive from my human hide.
When the cult had come for me
I could have got away, but didn’t.
I couldn’t be the one to cause this any longer.
Had it been a day or a year inside this skin? I could not tell.
The faces I had captured over centuries took hold.
I became a kind of hunter.
Eating pelts of pleading meat to acquire their appearance.
Taking their form with will alone.
Alive and crawling out of me to catch it’s prey.
Shed you foreign poison peltry. Take the rind you want.
Seen to be a wicked omen,
despite attempts to hide my live birth mark crown
of a dark demon tar I’d taken back
with me from the other side.
There is no God. For if there was then how’d this evil take me?
It seeped and crawled its way along my face as mother wept.
Stealing identities from every skin it sees.
Growing with urgency.
When he tried to cut it off, many a time (to no avail)
it would take my livid father’s manic features.
Laughing at him as he tried to hack them off his son.
Knowing that he could not end my life he took his own.
Mother mourned the death of him
and knew that many more would follow
if I didn’t leave right then.
Heading out into the woods, I promised I would never come back.
I thank the dead that she knows not what I have become.
Taking over adolescent tendencies to feed,
to hunt, to kill, to change.
Decades take me deep into the curses endless undertow.
There is no time or end behind this epidermal prison.
My thread of youth imprisoned. Tortured by immortal victims.
I am the Involuntary Doppelgänger
I can not stop it. My skin is alive.
All of the time I’ve spent inside it,
I never thought it could be calling out
to any other Involuntary Doppelgänger.
Had it grown bored of its feed?
Or gained knowledge with time?
Whatever the change had been,
I felt it emanating information.
Had it tried to send a beacon, warning them to stay away?
I heard the voices calling back “Involuntary Doppelgänger”
Had it tried to send a beacon, warning them to stay away?
I heard the voices calling back “Involuntary Doppelgänger”
One last face, it had to acquire before it’s caught.
The menace cloak found her still alive
and skinning bodies of her own.
It appeared she had done the same as I for all this time,
to see her son again.
And there I stood.
The cloak of others made her impossible to recognize.
She carved me like any other martyr of our curse,
when the cult had breached our cabin.
Taking me to be a random victim of the doppelgänger.
Heading out into the woods
I promised I would never come back.
I thank the dead that she knows not what I have become.
Taking over adolescent tendencies to feed,
to hunt, to kill, to change.
Decades take me deep into the curses endless undertow.
My tongue speaks in a cadence that only A.U.M. can decipher.
Void of bidding. Heading out
a very inner wreathing of a demon,
with intent to animate and be gone.
2. Human Murmuration
I was the first to discover what hid in those red windows.
The one I found there tried hard to survive.
A child riddled with teeth sprouting randomly
all over his body (except in his rotting mouth)
was taken by us, to our lab.
Us meaning myself, as well as the assistants I had.
Instructing me of a mission through
a distant telepathic channel,
running directly out from their compound and into my brain.
Referring to themselves as the A.U.M.
I was to bring the body back to my quarters
and await instruction.
Not an easy task, to transport it.
Strapping it down to a gurney I dragged it through the alley.
Unfortunate casualties noticed me.
Using any tools around me at that time to keep them quiet.
An iron pipe, a broken bottle,
or a jagged piece of brick or stone.
I should not continue to delineate this any longer.
At one point I had to fake my death
until the witness made a close inquiry.
At that time I had to use the less effective
weapons that were born onto me.
With old teeth and leather hands,
I took an ear and then an eye.
I focused force around their skull
to keep them mute during attempts
to yell for aid, until they fell.
A.U.M. made it painfully clear, I was to bring the body back
or I would be forced to witness the drop of black again.
I cannot begin to describe
the horror of viewing this maddening drop,
for the memory bleeds to deep into my own
that the mere thought alone starts to unravel
my frayed reality,
Giving way to its ominous ability to shape
and adapt my thought and vision.
It is beginning to happen now.
I finally have the body safe inside.
After the abduction, after the viewing of the drip,
a building had been left to me by relatives
across the ocean that it overlooked.
Or so I was told.
Often I try to recall
what endeavours I pursued previous to this,
yet to no avail
That part of my memory blurs in my mind
like a fresh painted canvas left out in a thunderstorm.
I watch through my window as it melts.
Fading all the memories I kept.
Only A.U.M here.
They are conducting human murmuration.
From the liquid in his bones
they raise the dead to fly together
I circle with them in the shroud.
The winged ones and I.
Falling off their wind, I waken
with unworldly castings burned into my eyes.
Intermittent logic in a daze of violent hyper gliding.
They are conducting human murmuration.
From the liquid in his bones
they raise the dead to fly together.
I woke from my dream on the floor of the factory,
In a nest made of black feathers that were alive.
Somehow every hollow quill had filled up
with the rotting child’s living marrow.
Each one serving as a needle to inject in each new body.
In this nest A.U.M made it clear,
I was to bring more corpses back to life
or be forced to witness the drop of black again.
Every night while in fever I’ve taken
a new pallet of bone and vein to infect and release.
3. Remote Tumour Seeker
Half the brain renames itself “Remote Tumor Seeker”
after it viewed the timeless drip.
Manipulating hemispheric dominance.
Educated by injecting neo neural integrators
proved to work in making half the brain comply.
After activating vision it began the Seeker killing.
A.U.M documents the project
by implanting nano cameras in it’s iris.
Live feed of the kills projects
on a massive screen of flesh,
behind a liquid looming black endless grotesque.
This drip, that invites itself cautiously out
from the ceilings center.
Elder than mankind’s frail lineage.
Eating it’s way down through my spine.
Replace and conquer.
Releasing it’s ungodly ether into me.
Always keeping to one half
and often having a fetal-like tantrum under one eye,
adding claim to my delusion
of a living tumor growing in me.
It can look into you as you look into me looking for it.
Over riding half my body and my brain.
Though it came from me,
it calls to you to come and cut it out.
Rapidly taking over my right hemisphere.
Allocating left to be the prey
and right to be the hunter.
Unknowingly, both documents for the A.U.M.
I share my eyes with the Seeker.
Investigating endless mile.
His trail built of barren heads.
His boundless quest ensures
he’ll kill until he is the last one left.
I watch him grin, shake the hand of the victim,
then frantically ransack each one of their skulls.
Half the brain renames itself “Remote Tumor Seeker”
after it viewed the timeless drip.
4. Relentless Mutation
Inhale.
No profits go to those who battle
to protect their kind from us.
And are they not better off
beyond their mortal kingdom of overflown carrion?
Sate the acrid hunger in you as you gaze into the drip.
Stare into its blacken film and do not take your eyes away.
The contents of our inverse alter
will mutate your skin and your mind.
Breeding ample mental lucre,
Far exceeding any other oddity on this curetted old land.
Breathe in with your pupils.
Then expel the cadence that it gives you.
Cast your voice like line and hook,
reeling out your deepest fears.
Inhale relentless mutation.
Eons rendered in one view.
Binding your sight to the evermore.
One second in its void will evoke a phobia of time.
Inhale.
All the grim within each thought
will echo all throughout the liquid.
Its current emanates repulsive imagery.
Ludic sanguine orb, heaving sable.
Incarnation of every witnesses hallucination
raveling and breeding into its hyper kinetic makeup.
Relentless mutation in the retinal burrow of A.U.M.
Relentless mutation of your mind.
Now describe what you see.
5. The Mimic Well
Before the sand around the well turned black,
There ran a water, clear, forgiving, serene.
Like that of any vein or artery, it pressed along its path,
up earth, in wait of wither.
What should have killed the growth at birth did not.
In the rush of wither soon
to mimic those who dare engage it.
A human host removes the brood
without maternal merit for her three stillborn litter.
Swelling and pounding its way out her orifice,
the surrogate vacantly stabs at her skin pod of spawn.
The river’s thin surface, like porous blue fabric,
absorbed the occurrence.
The fetuses carried below.
In the mimic well of siren triplets,
a crude onyx hatches.
In this tale of a godless odyssey.
The foreign force reflects the three dead born
within its waters.
The mimic well of siren triplets
feeds the spent young
that regrow inside it.
Filling, fueling, nursing itself
down the throats of the clones
like a formula, living and black.
A maternal overseer
training them to take the image of anyone.
Three augmenting in their pit.
A triad of ominous gestating replicates.
Born together, yet apart.
The fluid embedding itself in each one of them.
Allocating powers to each uniquely.
Making one of skin, one of mind, and one of marrow.
Teething on the brick in the well,
until growing human bodies,
silken, ripe, and captivating.
When a hunter (thought to be dead) returned alive,
the widow knew it came back not a man.
Silk black tar spits from
their three young tempting apertures.
Leaping from their lustful flesh to gorge
on the victim’s appearance.
Eclipsing the prey’s bleeding reflection.
Black engaging red,
on the furtive stage at the river’s edge.
Forever burned in the eye of A.U.M
they capture this display of the water born’s
insatiable shifting hunger.
Then project this feeding process infinitely,
from that moment,
on to all those who show a willingness to view it,
during their gaze into the drip.
The siren’s feast,
in its pure an ancient state,
carries on in timeless kairos.
The death and rebirth of the daughters of mutation,
echo again and again in the mimic well.
The siren’s feast,
echo again and again in the mimic well.
Echo again and again in the mimic well.
6. Calamus Will Animate
Calamus,
taken to the pen to relive every identity we replicate.
Without will they live again
within our intimate collective.
Animate all the dead we bring into it.
A burrow of human memory.
The pen, the feather, and the needle,
are alike in death and life.
Looking back on what had happened
when the the feathers had arrived,
I realize I was not alone.
I can recall the men had got infected by it too.
Having contact with the foreign components
infected them.
Before, the factory was known
to make the highest quality of bedding.
Cutting. Filling. Stitching fabric with the finest down
from all around the world.
Yet this down flew through
our dream barrier, intact.
Calamus will animate.
Its contents are hostile.
The A.U.M will kill everybody not in this compound.
The dead I bring to them awake,
and join in flight above my head
When the ink coating the wings
made contact with the workers skin,
it crept into their blood.
Turning them inhumanly violent.
They grabbed and tore and bit and clawed,
at one another and themselves.
Gravity and death from loss of blood had no effect
on any member of the crew,
during their frantic battle to relief their bodies
from the ether lifting them into the air.
Die then elevate.
Fusing remnants of spent bodies.
Weaving bones and organs into an inverted nest,
dug in the ceiling.
The black sludge casting out from the center,
as a starving bird of prey.
I heard its voice and felt its need,
to find the child made of teeth,
and begin the human murmuration.
Calamus will animate
its contents are hostile.
The A.U.M will kill everybody not in this compound.
The dead I bring to them awake,
and join in flight above my head.
It’s banshee wail demanding feed.
I hear it’s pain and become its keeper.
I rip the living from the night.
Like pulling worms from soil.
A.U.M watches these sky burials.
The boy lay like a wet mound of dust
on the rotting factory floor.
I knew the black fluid hid itself
in the deformed corpse of this child.
Finally, after hours into cutting,
lifting, pulling, sawing, crunching, clipping, I had found it.
My crude autopsy revealed bounty,
nesting in replace of the marrow in the young ones bones.
The second I saw it, it saw me.
I knew it’s face. Changing. Relentlessly. It was the drip.
I had it contained as instructed.
Filling up many clusters
of hypodermic needles with the matter,
I adminstered it into a new subject each night,
a new life.
One with every full rotation of the clock.
I’ve seen those hands meet,
then disengage a thousand times.
Calamus will animate.
Its contents are hostile.
The A.U.M will kill everybody not in this compound.
The dead I bring to them awake,
and join in flight above my head.
It’s banshee wail demanding feed.
I hear it’s pain and become its keeper.
A.U.M allowed me to live off the organs
once the people took flight.
They do not keep me against my will yet I refuse to run.
Every day I climb the stairs outside this door
and view the horde of lifted dead
that they conduct behind the factory walls.
I must hold on to the final tier of focus I still have
to scribe these happenings in hopes
that someone will know what went on here.
I can feel the pressure of their unified unscripted flight
pounding air down on the floor board,
just a plank’s width above.
I rip the living from the night.
Like pulling worms from soil.
7. A Dark Horizontal
The dark horizontal.
Ahead, a panting land approaches.
Flaring vibrant coastal glimmers
mend the distant fraying seams
of a violent waters restless bedding.
Panic indented in the floating web
of wicked mental horrors,
thought up by the crew’s subconscious fears,
come alive to haunt and drain us.
The sea is a man that’s trying to kill me.
The wind is his repugnant voice
the air, his fouled breath.
A stench of salt, of blood and rot.
The sky his mouth. The stars his open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for meat.
Time freezes death
inside this altering dark horizontal.
Imaginable realities constructed out of fear.
Mountains unstable and hideous.
The guardians of a contorting dimensional paragon.
A.U.M. sent us to find and retrieve the artifact,
in the house of change,
where the king came back,
through spontaneous regeneration.
Reliving Kairos in the king’s hell.
Becoming the mimics from the triplets well.
Exhuming infinity to find a hand.
A child made out of teeth,
feeding on blood and sand
The sea is a man that’s trying to kill me.
The air, his fouled breath.
A stench of salt, of blood and rot.
The sky, his mouth. The stars, his open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for meat.
The sea is a man that’s trying to kill me.
The sky is his mouth. The stars, open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for…
Time freezes death inside
this altering dark horizontal.
Imaginable realities constructed out of fear.
A dark horizontal.
Flooding the linear land with the sand of its own.
In the parallel dunes of its hourglass, we are buried.
Mountains unstable and hideous.
The guardians of a contorting dimensional paragon.
Raised blades of land stab skyward
through the oceans skin.
Storm winds true their edge
to scalp the curve of earth.
Peeling off the rind,
revealing a house made of living tissue.
Yelling out its mouth for me to regenerate, in it.
In dark horizontal.
Ahead, a panting land approaches.
Flaring vibrant coastal glimmers
mend the distant fraying seams
of a violent waters restless bedding.
In this house the disease of dream
course in the veins and arteries of the walls.
Imagined infections thrive.
They blister and breed under the floor.
Their many roots are breaking through.
Saplings sprout and secure their place.
Growing into trunks of flesh and boil.
The pillars of man’s deepest fears.
Enclosing me in a forest of unforgiving mental genesis.
I mold this house of clay bacterium,
where I sculpt my own organ prison.
In this house beyond our time.
This house at the end of the earth.
The artifacts resting place.
A dark horizontal fear. Defying the linear.
Lost in this storm and exhausted of options.
I crawled to the bow of the boat and leapt off it.
The figure head came alive.
And it clawed and it grabbed at me.
Desperately wailing in agony.
Failing to capture my fall.
Diving through the fog,
through the green and gray.
My hands bound together as if in prayer.
I cut through the mesh of black liquid surrounding us.
Fighting against the live current
of thousands of eyes and hands.
Miles I swam, through skin and limb.
The sea is a man that’s trying to kill me.
The air, his fouled breath.
A stench of salt of blood and rot.
The sky, his mouth. The stars, his open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for meat.
The sea is a man that’s trying to kill me.
The sky is his mouth. The stars, open sores.
The shoreline is his jaw, grinding for…
Time freezes death inside this altering dark horizontal.
Imaginable realities constructed out of fear.
Relentless Mutation – Youtube Video
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