I. Book Of Leviathan (4:50-8:36)
We are martyrs, we are slaves, we are those who mark their own graves. Hollow heart, hollow faith, hollow earth, hollow in thy name. My knees remain shattered, my arms lay broken. A confession to your tyranny, a reason for an end. Her hands show wounds as they place a crown of thorns on your beloved’s head. Abandon the weak, a left handed prayer. March – to those who will be slayed. March – to those who have betrayed. March – to the beat of flagellation. March – to the torture of genesis. In sin we gather. Enslaved by this morality from the pages of Leviathan. Relinquish these laws; carry them to their demise.
II. Litany of a Wage Slave (8:37-13:33)
“Father I have carried your casket to your grave.” “Have you learned nothing from my mistakes?” – Our daily procession through the fields of crucifixion past the forest of inquisition. A funerary call for those whom the bells toll for. Blessed by blood trickling from scythes. Columns of workers, sea of despair. We gather for our wakes. We’ve lost our will and way as we slave away mourning day to day.
III. A Song For Savages(A Declaration Against Progress) (13:34-17:20)
Their bodies covered these roads; they’ve devoted carcasses to this progress. Clocks made of their own bones. Every second to suffer, every minute to endure, every hour to suffocation, every night to scourging ourselves dry. Burdened by ten millennial reigns, dictated by left and right tongues. Surrounded by rivers of blood, surrendered to language. Humanity drowns in a wine made of its own blood. Fooled into civility by its process and its tools. Slay every pale Christ, technophile, and tyrant ten thousand times over. I yearn to die uncivilized.