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Drucastil - Sunless
04:22
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The ancient echo of blood
dries like it bleeds through
the pages of time
the mass death implied by mixed tones
and forgotten tongues
Atrophiied social organs
at the fringes of the dying empire
called to what once was before
a sacred duty
to those who will come to be
patterns of life must once again
become etchings in the flesh
roadmaps of the waterways
as rituals of war
become the oars thru the streams of life
communal cleansing
the flesh and the hearthfire
preparation of the home
where the ancestors are interred
within the walls
Laying into the grooves
left by the tank treads of ritual
blood-sprinkled papers
burn gold and illuminate
visions in the copal resin smoke
gazing into the hollowed sockets
of the inevitable and accepting what
will be as lifetimes of toil dissipate with the illusions of what once seemed so real
All returns to breath
inverted trees drawing life
from the air with or without
the conscious mind
individualist delusion mistakes the fruit for the tree
disregarding the mystery that causes both to be
the slow grope for eternity, the accumulating complexity
of the material forms return once more to the void
from whence they came, only to be released
again, like a breath slightly held, or curse broken,
whos caster has long ago died
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From the rural vastlands
to the lush green trees and brown mountains
flame charred earth returns to life
in the growing storms to come
let the masses prepare the rafts
for the deluge of their wrath
as the collective rage coagulates
against the mere aesthetic pretensions
people must gather their arms
and their compassion
so that in the ashes of the old world,
new growth will bloom
To seek the light
of a less judgmental sun
Gold stars in the smogblood sky
illuminate a shining path
from the mountains to the city
how we can march with steadied aim
and measured eye
comrades hand in hand
Towards the Crimson Triumph
Go now forth, steeled and steeped
as you must be
in the wisdom
of what has come before
Through the fog of fear
let the mind be as a spear
in the phalanx with your siblings in battle
Cast off the slavers
cursed yoke of chattle
to instead drag
the sled of revolution
Through the bog of indifference
and the swamp of lies
on the path bloodied by martyrs
Do not aspire to become one of the corpses
but live to fight, sharpen yourselves into weapons
open our veins of the needless comfort
or go forth up the temple steps of the great other
and be honored with your own
crimson triumph
With the careful effort of the masses
we can crush the eternal foes of the working class
let the call to revolution be a warm invitation to truth
the acceptance of death
In the face of the fight for life
towards the crimson triumph
On and on
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Hear our sword
in the making of our prayer
materially
Temehhse Ollini Tlasohtla Ehekatl
Let the world's tragedy cease to feed our feast
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Red Nebula Los Angeles, California
Coagulating visions of our comrades into the material realm to bring about upheaval and revolution
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