Betrayal!

The Lapse Betrayal! Lyrics
1.Betrayal

Though I've returned with my head hung low
And my palms pressed flatly, upwardly together,
In due time I plan on leaving again
And when I do my fingers will fold to form a gun
And flip to fuck a chorus of pussies
Who still answer to that brilliant thought
That revealed itself to them in third grade.
What was it again?

In this church the clocks have stopped
While her bedtime tongue hits my ears undeciphered
And my hands send 'silk' to my heart
Before the 'skin' to my brain
And I know these whispers betray my alchemy
And my new religion can set us back centuries,
But I'm not coming back
I'm not coming back until i can take this with me.


2.Excessive Exposure


3.Infinite Me


4.Hide Your Daughters

Where do you find the most perverts?
Hidden behind three degrees,
Apparently asexual, teachers, scientists, left-wingers.
Every glance cast upon them emasculates
For the mere thought would have never even crossed your mind,
'him?'
Believe it or not
-but it isn't because he doesn't get any.

If you were to graph this phenomenon:
'X' being 'proximity to temporality.'
The right extreme reserved for those rare moments of total
understanding.
The left for nine innings at season seats
With a pocket screen simultaneously reporting how the giants are
doing.
'Y' being 'sexual need' (again, not 'amount gotten').

You could watch the line shoot up
Almost a perfect 45 degree angle.
Passing 'fear of sex',
passing 'monogamy',
passing 'true players.'

By the time we're in a stone's throw of the underpopulated, wild
and dangerous Right Frontier.

We're talking about not just fucking but deceiving.
Cumming inside
Not to humiliate but to leave a trail of little bastards
Across a globe that may too soon never ever remember you were
here.

And then it all stops abruptly,
Straight down 90 degrees to 0 -
the line where for brief moments
(for no one can actually maintain a life there)
Everything becomes painfully clear -
It leaves you completely, not a drop left.
And where you once saw cream
Is now just a filthy residue unhygienically oozing,
For here it is unfortunately apparent that the chubby cheeks,
Baby blue eyes, and fragile skin of even an infinite number of
newborns
Are not you.
Cannot be you.
Will never be you.


5.People Wouldn't Shoot Up If It Didn't Feel Good


6.A, B, C, And D's Of Fascism


7.Threat


8.3 People Wide At All Times


9.Mentabolism


10.From Destructive Urges Reason Emerges


11.Consent


12.Speeding Train

To the trains go by,
To the engines that gave me chills.
To make fun of your poor classmates,
You gave up these thrills

These are the beautiful, the rose's petal.
The steamship's muscle, the sleight of hand hustle.
They're the deepest felt that do not get questioned.
They're the pure aesthetic that give us direction.

They're the softest skin, the thickest grin,
The perfect pitch, the puppy's chin.
The speeding train, the arched ceiling,
The curving hip, the soothing shade.

Do not be afraid to let it take you without jealousy,
It's guiltless pleasure, it's freedom to its possessor
Attraction's a treasure we can not hold,
And the sake of one lover denies seduction's hold.

I answer to beauty, not weakness but reason,
Not spite but seasons, not wrong but feelings.

To the softest skin, to the thickest grin,
To the perfect pitch, to the puppy's chin

To the speeding train, to the arched ceiling,
To the curving hip, to the soothing shade.

To the speeding train...


13.This Is Not The Pure Aesthetic

When you slice the neck
The heart keeps pumping
And the blood flies everywhere,
It covers the face

And if you're in the jungle
The mosquitoes swarm down
And cover the face.

And if you're surrounded by smoke
Use a knife more than the gun
And the more you kill
The more materialize out of the dark
The grey dark.

In a vacuum like a videogame,
And the more you kill
The further away you move.
Those are plastic mosquitoes
And well-practiced screams.
My children live on TV-screens and bars,
And all the action is wasted,
Wasted, pointless, all alone.

Empty removes from emptiness.
The pure aesthetic is magic,
And magic is a pseudo illusion
Of getting something from nothing.


14.We Must Move Backwards To Progress