Genuine truth is found through self-exploration. When we accept others' answers to our own deeply-rooted questions, we accept a stranger's dictation of what our lives should be. What they profess as guidance becomes, instead, shackles on our potential, and a method of control to serve their own purposes. Many schools of thought hint that they offer a better life, but we do well to be suspicious if they support their messages with threats and fear. No living person knows what happens after death. This is a certainty of the human condition. So anyone that promises to know, beyond doubt, exactly how we got here and where we're going, is selling dishonesty. And especially when they command that an unknowable afterlife guarantees us eternal torment and suffering if we do not obey their rules during our mortal lives, we should use our own judgement and deem these lessons as unhealthy fairy-tales, beaten unjustly into malleable heads and unaccepting of simple questions to their authority. These strictures lead people in circles and prevent them from knowing themselves and engaging in life with more agency and curiosity. Their followers chase their own tails and shrug uncaringly at the wild beauty of life and the power of our own conscious minds that make us so unique among the world's creatures. To break with these traditions and forge a new path is the way to a better future.


No truth can be lost forever  
Only concealed, one day to be revealed  
The tides of change they wash away  
the unexplained filling empty hands with what remains  

Feel the weight lift away as the lies evaporate  
No more pacified by the promised ever-after  
We're here and now the sun shines down and exhumates  
resurrecting from the underground  

Break with outdated tradition  
and reclaim your freedom singing  
abnegation, revelation welcome the light  

Their past becomes their future  
We'll find our own way home  
on the path that knows no hope  
in idolizing forms misleading in their deaf repose  
so we break away the thorns from rose  

We are fed punishment always fearing for the end so our lives,  
so confined, never speak with the divine  
One day, their altars will fall and crumble to the Earth a fallacy to burn endless returns  

No truth can be lost forever  
only concealed, one day to be revealed  
The tides of change, they wash away the unexplained  
and what remains will fill their empty hands with fuller hearts and able brains  

Feel the weight lift away as the lies evaporate  
no more pacified by the promised ever-after  
we're here and now the sun shines down  
and exhumates resurrecting from the underground  

Their past becomes their future  
we'll find our own way home on that path that knows  
their past becomes their future we'll find our own way home  
find our own way home

How Far We Fall


Mankind is plagued by a duality. Part of us wants comfort and simplicity, while the other part seeks hungrily for greater understanding. Whichever part of us we indulge becomes our character. If we indulge our inner desire for easiness in life, our character becomes soft and mushy and can tend rapidly toward the natural sins of greed and ignorance. Soon, we can find ourselves lost to the world, perhaps not standing in its way, but certainly not guiding it actively toward goodness. This is the easier way, and its rewards are superficial and ultimately poisonous. But that other part of us can also be indulged. If we choose to nurture our hunger for understanding, we will tread a more difficult path. There is hardship in the search for knowledge. There is a certain level of pain and frustration that comes from doubt, but this is a growing pain. Just as a muscle cannot grow and become firm without strain, so can our minds not become strong and sure without the struggle to grasp new ideas. We are gifted with the chance to choose, and that choice determines which of these brothers we become – the petulant brother who never leaves the comfort of the castle, growing lazy and corrupt; or the brother who returns after many hard-won battles, older and wiser for his struggles.


Heeding what the prodigal son would say  
I take what I want and I lay beyond what you're worth  
Not a man, but a God that's in the palace of satisfaction  
Speaking out from the side of my mouth when I let go so let go  
I'd rather die than be barely alive You're gonna die livin' nine to five  

Feed the innocent to the fire  
one day they'll learn  
in this game where pawns all burn  
take the birthright of my kin  
standing on the backs of mortals  
that'll make him proud  
He returns  

He is silent, downcast, hollow Not the path I sought to follow  
How far we fall (Who are you?)  

Won't you take it away  
This pride that remains  
I'll tell you everything  
this bridge isn't built to burn  
Every day, these questions evaded  
tell you everything  
the lessons you've yet to learn  

Putting blade to back if I want to (Et tu, brute?)  
When I see that you do not what you say  
What of your gold? (I let it go) What of your lies (I let it die)  
Your dreams did not survive  

Won't you take it away  
This pride that remains  
I'll tell you everything this bridge isn't built to burn  
Every day, these questions evaded  
tell you everything  
the lessons you've yet to learn  

Heeding what the Prodigal Son would say  
I've run, I've lost I've lived to pay the cost  
and my past shows me the madness in the future of your thoughts  
and now I see, the only remedy, turning doubt into belief  
to set my brother free  
His blood is the key  

He is smiling, high and mighty hand of iron I cast to thee  
How far we fall  
who are you?  
Et, tu brute?  
You are traitor  
You are monster  
I condemn thee  

Fray your ties  
Hell awaits you  
Avarice Ignorance

Silk & Gold 


Memory of all my former lives Showing me what hides behind the eye Deity Hiding Within the Mind The Philosopher's Stone is an ancient legend of a certain powerful device capable of changing the physical properties of objects, mostly famously thought of as "turning lead into gold". It has been long rumored and sought by many wise men who desired either base wealth, or the chance to study this Stone and extract knowledge from it. Over time, the Philosopher's Stone became a silly myth to science, an impossibility. But the mythical properties of the stone reside, in some way, within us. Science laughs at the Stone, but it also can't explain our own minds to us. How does one take a thought, with no weight, no physical presence in the mind, and turn it into something real? How can an inventor conceive of something non-existent and bring it to life for all of us to share? We do not yet have this answer, but the more we look within ourselves the more the bizarre quality of our situation comes to light – the brain has named itself. The brain uses its own thinking abilities to wonder what it might be, if it simply works for itself or if it must conceive of something beyond its own borders, like the soul, to explain what is so far inexplicable. This weird property of the mass of tissue in our skulls gives it a kind of magic of its own, perhaps not so far removed from the Philosopher's Stone as we think. And the more the mind looks to itself, the more the clutter of thought is removed and untainted attention comes to the fore, showing us hidden experiences that awe to silence and invoke the creative powers.


The answers live and die with me  
I found the key to A place kept far  
from prying eyes  

She emerges and she’s beautiful, unknowable  
Liberate and follow where she leads  
Follow where she leads  

Lure me to the waterfall  
Show me things that I cannot unsee  
Letting go is impossible  
By silence of mind and the will to create,  
As the goddess reminds that Eternity waits  

Why doesn’t anybody listen  
When we already know  
Like children laughing at the boundaries  
We’ve got so far to go  

The truth might hurt, but wounds will heal  

Through the pain I heard her say  
Immortality is only fingertips away and I see  
That the stone beneath the waves  
Hides itself in doubt and whispers,  
Showing me what hides behind the eye  

Why doesn’t anybody listen When we already know  
Like children laughing at the boundaries  
We’ve got so far to go  

The truth might hurt, but wounds will heal  
The truth might hurt, but wounds will heal  

I follow her road  
A path made of silk and gold  
I Follow her road I follow her road  

Stay with me Stay with me, won’t you stay with me?  
Stay with me Stay with me, won’t you stay with me?  

Showing me what hides behind the eye  
Memory of all my former lives  
Showing me what hides behind the eye  
Deity Hiding Within the Mind

The Hive


Who are we to follow? If no living person yet knows the truth of our mortal situation, are we doomed to toil in solitude, or can we work in common with each other? If we are to pick leaders, we are wise to choose ones who will not deceive us. A good leader empowers their people, rather than keeping them in the dark with promises of "I know what's best". A good leader embraces questions, rather than avoiding or punishing them as challenges to his authority. This way, we can see that power is shared to some degree in an enlightened community. Perhaps not everyone should lead the charge, but a good leader will help each individual feel that they are capable of doing so. If everyone feels the power to lead, they will also feel the responsibility of leading righteously. Then, they become good leaders of their own lives, empowered in the true sense to make good decisions and become the best version of what they desire to be – not idle, uninterested followers, but neither self-obsessed tyrants. 


Dear love,  

There’s something too dear for us to sacrifice  
I know the price for such egregious cries  
but my mindsets failed to accept these lies  
We’ve bowed to unholy men,  
now they hear me as they kneel  

One hand wondering why,  
the other one sailing ships to the sky.  
Breeding out. God, why even try?  
The world is blind to your deafening cries  

Our thoughts were picked from a hive  
Another free thought left out to die  
Rip off the veils and open your eyes  
We’ve sent our children off to a lie.  

Strangers return to see what I’ve wrote,  
I'll plead out with every tear down my throat.  
Are we the outcasts of society?  
Or are there others who think like me?  

Remembering it's only skin.  

They break through the clouds.  
Flee with me, insanity is staying here on your damn knees.  
Psycho cybernetic lies we’re all gonna die.  

(I'm down here)  
Pay no mind!  
Not this time.  
Your world will now accept  
the line I revoke,  
through cannon smoke.  
The ends are justified.  

I'm through giving up, through giving up  
I'll never give up again these memories of you die with me  
I'm through giving up, through giving up  
I'll never give up again these memories of you die with me.  

Impossible is just a word small men throw around.  
Who find it easier to live in a world that they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it.  
Impossible is not a fact, it is an option.  

Look it straight in the eye.  
Grab it.  
Now we must decide.  
Do we have the strength and the bravery of society to release this demon trapped in me?  

We haven’t begun to understand.  

Like cybernetic beings torn worlds away.  
Let's open up design and misery.  
Show me what's there to become one.  
Illuminate your room just like the Sun.  

have we forgotten.  
That his eyes are kin.  
From nowhere to now here.  
I am only justifying lies.  
For I am, that I am.  
We have never witnessed my life.  
Idle hands, devil's land.  
Ego so embarrassed by death.  
Death and life are undone  
by tongue.

Away With Words 


 When we are young, everyone chomps at the bit to teach us what they know. Our parents and teachers badger us to death to learn words and ideas so important for them to pass on. But these ideas work like viruses – they work for themselves and their own livelihood and reproduction, not ours. The idea is always clamoring to "get out", to be spoken or written so it can make another copy of itself - so it can reproduce. Just as some strains of virus can be beneficial to us and others can be so damaging, ideas can work to improve or destroy us. But the virus doesn't care about its host's well-being; we become only a breeding-ground. To be too attached to our ideas works against us in the long run. To clear the mind of these visitors shows us more of what "we" are – we are not our ideas. We are not what we have learned. "We" are something else, something that by its very nature defies description. But a clear, unattached mind sees a profound and beautiful truth that is lost on those who are too obsessed with definition, too greedy to say "I know" when the case may be that we can never know. It is up to us if we despair of this notion, or if we can embrace and make peace with it.


I have never had my way 
away with words. 
Now I remember days where I just felt insane 
and loved the pain 

You’re wasting eternity. 
Believing the worst in me. 
While the march of the days takes you farther away. 
Listen to me. 

Light floods, see again the sun... 
Light floods, bitterness undone. 

Grand designs release me from the mire. 
Let forgiveness guide us to the shore. 

Away with words. 
.What we define loses its worth. 
Away with words. 
Old thoughts confine us. 
Away with words. 
Death of desire is rebirth. 
Away with words. 
Make peace with her. 

The balance can end the tragedy. 
The poison will pass without harm (You'll see) 

Grow fallow fields once more. 
Grow fallow fields once more. 

Let the march of days take you far away. 
And the balance restore your harmony. 
An eternity spent in tragedy. 
Let the balance restore this memory.