Lullabies for the Dormant Mind Lyrics (2009)

The Agonist Lullabies for the Dormant Mind Lyrics Album

Lullabies for the Dormant Mind Lyrics Album by The Agonist

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1. The Tempest (The Siren’s Song; The Banshee’s Cry)

I say!
Why do you grip so hard, that way?
Of what, is there left to be afraid?
Let the waves elope with your empty remains.
They erode your foothold, anyway.

They Mosh
Unaware of their own might
Shore-ward swallowing
They storm me, ganging up on me!
What’s become of the home that supported me?
They spit me back after drowning me
Then slip away dragging their fingers behind them.

But you expel the salt sink down lower than the undertow would bring you.
You just don’t seem to see how returning to them is so far beneath you.

But then
How come my corpse – it rises up?
And it is my soul that has sunk?
That sound rings out across the land
Over, the roaring waves through every grain of sand
Is it of loss and pain or made to seduce man?
The oohs and aahs of
Funeral spectator’s
Death admirators
As they bathe in ritual memories and fake tears.
Life’s underrated.
Jaded and hatred
Isolate you so abandon your fears.

And spread my ashes like a bouquet of seeds.
Far up, far out…
To show you what I’m made of.
Kill the parasite in every co-dependent
Brain fallen slave to pull the waves

The pull of the waves
The natural decay
Of all that is made
Is how redemption is paid

But you expel the salt sink down lower than the undertow would bring you.
You just don’t seem to see how returning to them is so far beneath you.

Say, Dickinson, who do you blame for your romantic death wish?
And does it remain true that angry winds feel like a lover’s breath?
That’s why you grip so hard.
It’s simply condition keeping me locked in!
I could escape if I knew how to swim!
Look… feel… you’re aided
Wind, sun and strangers
have come to guide you so the choice is clear

We’ll spread your ashes like a bouquet of seeds.
Far up, far out…
So show us what you’re made of.
We’ll kill the parasite in every co-dependent
Brain fallen slave to the pull of the waves.

Casually capturing
To escape the surface chaos is to sink – not to swim.

You say
To release the stranglehold keeping me safely beneath.
But, as sea foam rises up
Tickles my lips and sinks inside
Doesn’t the choice of future paths become a matter of pride?
When I’ve struggled so hard to excel,
Why is it so unappealing to survive?

2. …and Their Eulogies Sang Me to Sleep

All I heard was the sound of fish who’d drowned.
All I saw was the inside of my eyelids.
All I said fell short of reaching open ears.

Words floating, clouding the view…
‘See no, hear no, speak no evil’ leaves you deaf, dumb and blind,
because the bad is all you’ll find.
A deeply heart-felt goodbye to the part of me that died
when I decided to put others before me,
yes, my heart fell asleep – boredom and fatigue.
I always said I wanted to die smiling,
to pretend I’m at peace.
Now from my corpse beams a frigid, blank grin
and once hopeful eyes are sunken in.

Like a lullaby to the cradle is the eulogy to the casket.
All my flaws swept under the table
to grieve the porcelain doll that was me.

Their solemn songs sang me to sleep as my body escaped me.
Welcome down into the New World!
Happiness is being interred!
Such a shameful masquerade!
Fleeting, frozen minutes on display.
Why is evolution such a shameful thing to say?
Can you feel your bodily decay?

(Arms are beside me, hands open wide.
Seems I was living my life in rewind,
taking so many steps backwards, not looking behind.)

Because I can sure as hell feel my brain going blank.
If my body betrays me, there’s pollution to thank.
This condition infects my cells like it controls my mind.
Internal army, defend me behind enemy lines!
Fragile vehicle of mine! Don’t abandon me yet!
There is so much to live for that we so easily forget.

Fascination with the fear… The concept escapes me.
All encompassing fate…
how it wrenches our hearts, torments our souls
and sings us all to sleep to an eternal keep,
no matter what beliefs, it sweetly sings us all…

3. Thank You, Pain

So, lowly criminal, please tell me, how do you plead?
Now, honorable judges, ladies, gentlemen of the jury, please allow me to present my case…
Ha! What case can you possibly present to rip a man from his family, faith, and friends? Defense?
Listen before you convict, you see, I never did intend to ruin anything!

Intent is a guilty conscience’s white flag against pride, so I find you guilty of the crimes.
I know, although i don’t believe it’s not only my afterlife I bereave.
Appeals will be denied! The line of duty calls for enforcement of laws, so you’re our property now. Intelligence has failed you somehow. Oh, what a shame you play this game!

Through senses, what can we explain? Not joy, not guilt, not pain. Is love the same? This senseless argument in vain erodes my sense of shame. Who’s to blame?

Thank you, Pain! (for crippling my body) God bless Suffering! Thank you , Pain! (for freeing my brain)
For preventing me from returning to the source again.
So it shall be! Now do you see the error of your ways? Of Rats and Men you speak, standing up tall but you are weak. A smiling thief. We are all murderers, you see, but you let taboo human chemistry blind your needs. Live is greed! Logic won’t concede. Think about the statistics you feed. Think before you plead. Through senses, what can we explain? Not joy, not fear, not pain. Is love the same? This reckless argument in vain erodes my sense of shame. Who’s to blame?

4. Birds Elope with the Sun

Air like water, water like stone, birds elope with the sun.

A velvet quietus furtively draped over ears.
Quartz underfoot and crystalline opal years.
Welcome webs of gasping despair.
Nival anaphora textures the air.
Anamnesis waltzes through…
The windows, shit tight, and the fires are fueled… Reminding naivete of its magnitude’s inferiority.

Skywards stretching arms become thin and weak.
Bony fingers comb the clouds then curl into fists,
admitting defeat. Blood concedes to gravity’s pull,
leaving hollow skeletons all erect,
perforating the skyline an impenetrable cage…
like skin drawn tight, and canvas cracked with age.

Escapist flights and lengthy nights as some succumb and slumber awakes..
Faces count minutes til noon
solar ghosts come kiss the moon goodnight
grey memories for now. A thousand families,
down, will fall. Nival tears bury them all!
Like absconding tides, birds elope with the sun.

A barren desert soaked in bleach.
A sickly pallor and opal touch.
Hallucinating, shattered glass falls as if the atmosphere cracked and we are invaded by emptiness black.
The brain keeps the body company.
The continent is a new born, trying to breathe.
Accepting his fate and falling asleep,
the child is woman, resting in peace.

Accepting the sleep as a blackness forcing its way in and pushing air out through heavy lungs…
And heavy are the clouds that reach so deep and smother the land in a heavy shroud.
Eves press closed and words are now visible.
The sky is an eggshell waiting to hatch.
The ground is the the, the wind, the trees,
the Earth, the water, the first..
Sculptors working the clay, carving angels and gargoyles as pixies dance to appease the leaves.
Faces that once turned to catch light,
frown and turn desperately down towards darkness.
Float to the stiff, grey Earth.

5. Waiting Out the Winter

Which is more elusive: freedom or sanity?
When one disappears, the other follows so quickly
Certain species, races, beings are gifted, you see
with the power to rob us of either
should they feel so inclined to bother

The land is run by a man-made set of rules
described as Holy or patriotic tools
Ethics are invented, although a consciousness is not
Adamant beliefs are highly protected
and when challenged frequently emerge victorious

You can’t speak, think or feel
Severed wings never heal
So justifies the kill

Wait out the winter
Under forced custody
The static cold feels more like home
than this open-armed penitentiary
and we embrace the comfort of lost liberty

So fictile is identity without self-governance
That’s why free-thinkers always feel so lost and desperate

And I just witnessed my first death
I watched the last escaping breath
I just saw a life turn into death
For them to claim it doesn’t count is reckless, blind ignorance

A cry for help – silenced
I saw her go… I don’t know where
a frightened stare became a lifeless glare

Suddenly she was no longer there with me
although I’m there with her
I didn’t know when it was okay to exhale
The excuse-making race decides
that breaking their own laws applies
But taking any life is wrong
I feel the pain for every one

Though you can stand, learn, still ignore
the weight of knowledge cracks glass floors
Ink runs quickly, blood runs slow
So wait for the rain waters to flood the snow

Wait out the winter
Under forced custody
The static cold feels more like home
than this open-armed penitentiary
and we embrace the comfort of…

Disgrace yourself because you’ve caged yourself in
Destined path’s a dead-end
Eyes take snapshots from broken clocks
Motion slows to a sleep-walk
and senses shut down with the frost
and all is ending
Mental hibernation

6. Martyr Art

Awaken, as from a tormented sleep with eyes anxiously looking to creep beyond this twisted dementia displayed on the walls.
Mysterious mindsets and ink-droplets fall.
Muses take flight in an all out war.
Shall I catch it with open hand?
Or let it fall and start again?
Such words burn the skin.
So, enter stage right, mic in hand.
Before the micro-cosm, stand.
Display my efforts, after all, don’t expect them recognized.
Hourly torture, chaos ignite!
Beauty and art give a sign of life.
But, as Balzac and Hardy profess, the martyr will burn for her canvas.
Elusive horizon, I’m not a threat.
You see, I’m for some reason always on trial.
Object of destination — always on trial.
O, Solitude!
With thee I dwell!
With thee I dwell is our assiduous, gated hell.
Trivial — this mind and spirit world.
You can’t compare their worth to what is real.
At its best, all critics must confess, this work can outlive death — so what is real?
Because I can’t describe half the shit I feel inside your crimes.
Targeted intent eviscerating innocence.
I swear I’m not a threat.
Put down your defense.
All I can do is watch in awe… feet raking the sand, hands bound by molten ire.
As the broad guillotine blade sinks into the horizon, streams of burning gold burst forth from ultramarine expansive veins and reach towards me, lending heat to the air, as the Earth is sliced in half and the dividing line approaches.
For every stage turned wonderland, for every sound turned song, for every song turned experience, for every hour turned long.

Accablées de misère en décembre, les muses se baignent en flammes.
Noyées dans l’ombre elles disparaissent, attendant le divin pientre de l’Univers, le Soliel

[English translation:
Overpowered by misery in December, the Muses bathe in flames.
Drowned in the shade they disappear, awaiting the divine painter of the Universe, the Sun]

7. Globus Hystericus

What says the Tree to his friends the Rocks?
When he lives and breathes they sit and mock?
And he grows strong, for centuries long, but one he dies and begins to rot.
“We will last intact this way! And you my friend, will soon decay!”
“But I can breathe — am commensal; the shade, the fruits, the nests on bough.
And if with this, my time finite, I’m glad to have spent it doing right.”
But Rocks prefer to simply sit.
To gain none, lost none, just exist.
But nary should an ocean rise, they’d become sand and disappear with the tides.
When trees ignite a cyclical life, from plant to animal to Earth and back; whom, even when their roots are ploughed, have left exponential impact.
And so, the greedy human kind, to conquer trees tall, mountains high, erects gigantic splinters of steel that shame forests, make mountains to kneel.
And progress spreads like moss on a stone.
Evolution dictates that men are prone to outdo those that came before.
“You see? We’ll last forever more!”
We improve what nature made.
We’ll challenge mountains, transplant lakes.
There is no confirmed master plan.
We do it just because we can.
But foolish is the one who complacently thinks himself King because when Time erodes the past what remains are Nature’s things.
Quite Shakespearean duals, those between parent and offspring are!
As Chronos devours his Son, Gaia to mankind so starts.
Metal rusts, cement crumbles.
To err is human, not divine.
Prayers are so intently mumbled when proud man is forces to decline.
Steel, concrete, technology may stand intact for centuries, but faces with wind or flood or quake, like toys will crumble, bend and break.
I say with actions what you do with words.
For we’re the moss; the Earth — the stone, so let us do as did the Tree.
For silence will long be ignored, and action recognized quickly.
We won’t outlive our generation but our impact surely will.
This — the Rocks’ humiliation — when they witness we are still alive in what we’ve left for others, like Nature gives, so selflessly.
So pay respect to out true Mother and take your rank amongst the Trees.

8. Swan Lake (A Cappella)


9. The Sentient

Here once stood
One hundred million species
Undiscovered until extinction
Here once stood
Unnatural amounts of prey turned product
Mechanized slaughter

The sentient flaunted their machinist superiority
An ersatz compensation for real instincts lost

Millennia of ancestry,
Plowed down for modern industry
The solution to their housing crisis
Was in fact the cause

So why not humanity for habitats
Because they are damned if they do
and damned when they can’t!
Euthanasia is a crimeless death penalty
but it’s still better than what they get
when tortured, brutally murdered,
because some fucking coward can’t make a clean living
So he picks on the voiceless children
Well they’re not smart like us,
they won’t feel a thing!’
That’s a fact? Please explain!

Why should we even care?
The things we destroyed did not need to be there.
It’s survival of the selfish!
The bi-pedal tyrant goes down with his ship in the end

Here once stood
Invented laws and morals
Applicable to selective followers
And, as such, rulers reserved the right
To control matters of death and life

… oxygen and oceans…

Metal rusts, cement crumbles
To err is human, not divine
Prayers are so intently mumbled
When proud man is forced to decline

Why should we even care?
The things we destroyed did not need to be there.
It’s survival of the selfish!
The bi-pedal tyrant goes down with his ship in the end

10. When the Bough Breaks

Alone… she was… and we face this journey alone…
Helpless and weak, dependent on others’ decisions
And needs. But who’s to say what is right?
To protect a soul or to save a life?
Is it a plague or a gift
the ability to create in the way of the Gods?

We are instinctual artists.
Atlas had nothing on what we’ve got.
When half a race carries the weight of existence and society shuns most circumstances.
Reputation screams to conform and cast out anything deviating from the norm.
The only way to believe your lies is to spread them far and spread them wide.
Creating like a limitless universe… but boundaries are what define size… Wake up.

Remember nightmares by sharing them upon gaining consciousness.
A flooded nation is soon to spoil so wave your flags west! Equality will
Never be attained when blaming Eve for the sins we’ve gained.
A fighter until the end
but sympathy only kicked in once she was dead.
The sacrifice of a life, or rather and exchange, instead.

Pity, regret and sorrow turned to hope,
but even then the newborn winds up dead.
Black white, right wrong.
Quite a simple hypocrisy. Since when is an accident a responsibility?
If you play God once,
I can play God twice.

Give me the decision and I’ll handle the fight.
Materialism now subsides.
Tradition exists when no one has the guts to change.
Someone asked me what difference one can make, one day.
For we’re the moss; the Earth the stone, so let us do as did the Tree.
For silence will long be ignored, and action recognized quickly.

What if? I should have… Hindsight always haunts me.
A thousand Judases could never stop me.
Slings and arrows disappoint and taunt me.
But I’m not wrong, and I’ll sacrifice everything just because I know the way since the beginning…
Hindsight always haunts me, and then the bough breaks.

11. Chlorpromazine

I awoke to a complex chemistry. So, I went to a neuro-surgeon inquisitively to see what she could see. But she only knows what she’s taught so I turned to a tree to see what he thought. And he asked: when does three equal one plus one. The answer is birth – life’s creation.
Then suddenly flames rushed past. Green turned to black, and life turned to ash.
Because I believe in everything, I’m convinced of nothing. United we ran – divided we crawl. It just takes a common enemy to make a friend. Marry hope and fear, invent a color

And so, it’s gone as quickly as it came. Raging tides galloped forth to extinguish the flames, and, thus, was born a cloud above. But all else was gone, and one plus one equaled one.
In harmony with gravity – always bring everything down

Tear out your mother tongue-chlorpromazine incursion – the rights of the voiceless will be revealed.
Flesh is food and bone is stone. A grey matter case for inner demons microphones. Fields of shells that luck in murky waters. A bed of nails for less traumatic slumber. Logic’s taught but brains are sweet, we’ve served ours up for the demons to feed. Project loathsome apathy redefines reality. Paranoid self-0victimization in a cage of skin rage and intimidating lack of control bring a once bright life to stone and ice.

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