Search results for 'calendar by the collective' Page #8

Bournemouth Runner

The Fall

Bend Sinister

1986

Consumed with premonition
Of trouble on horizon
By my remarks I was certain
I was destined persecution 

But then I took a chase after

Trust in binaries reflects ideologies
That puts the self at war with the collective
A structure we've designed and technologies we apply
Imagining

Christmas Eve
The calendar says there's a few nights left by the tree

Mistletoe hanging
In the halls we're saying
It's that time of year
It's that time

Just another face in the crowd
Wandering towards obscurity.
Driven by the dull desires
Of a worn out routine.

Stagnant in the suffocating

Do you know how awfully tired I am?
Wiped and wept out, I am the tumbleweed
This population is the desert
Join me!
In mutual isolation
The collective

A young girl she came
To a collective of men
Preached of earth and wine
With noses to the sky
She thought they seemed so good
Singing songs by

lives in the moment
There's a new Negro in town 
She is not haunted by the past

Who are these new Negroes
Shining stars of hope
Projections of our

Break down the systems of hate and oppression
We'll rebuild a world fed by collective vision
Radical communal healing and pleasure
Our liberation is

Its sinister ubiquity: marching and manifesting darkness
Percolating paroxysms which are incited by its scrutiny

Thine substratum compromised,

Rotting carcass of a system
That controls consumes and kills

Haunted by spectral infestation
Festering collective wound
Legs claws eyes teeth tongues

Infect their collective
Their wisdom is flawed
Mistrust your instincts
And suffer the scars
Cultural diversity
Now demonized
Racism prospers
Fueled

Its sinister ubiquity: marching and manifesting darkness
Percolating paroxysms which are incited by its scrutiny

Thine substratum compromised,

A hemorrhaging of non-thought, a tragedy                              
Rapid decline, our trigger happy theocracy
Bound and fueled by propaganda,

Kind of Game

Fastbacks

Zucker

1993

The time that flies for you, for me, forever
Everyday surrounded by more days on end.
This is the kind of game that lives forever
Calendar, leave

Great killer
Soulfeast
A Collective past
Removed by the blast of the sun
Mighty or weak
All fuel to incinerate
As the the heavens scorch our earth
True

goes by, it all just melts
My calendar has been no help

Why must it drag, why can't it end
When will I see the sun again
Lying in my darkened room

the movement of the hands watch the calendar turn
Emotions overflow though I try to take it slow
So for those who're in the know let the Spirit take control

everything I’m involved in.  I’m content with my weekly schedule, if there’s something on my calendar that doesn’t spark my spirit or benefit my being, I

Justified by bloated pride and jealous spite
You must abide
In this collective suicide
Wrapped in lies, cause anything flies
For a nation zombified

You lay on the earth, your eyes turned towards a sky
Obscured by grey and tired clouds
The crude cold soil was never this attractive,
with a maimed

As we ruin our health
We shall think of collective wealth
Ending 6, starting 9
And at least two hours drive
And the rent keeps going high
And there

spirits align

Strumming of guitars, delicate and pure
Each note echoes, a feeling that endures
And as the crowd sways, a collective sigh
I see a part of me

purgation
Cries cut into the night
Even holy or even not

Tainted lifes
Needless cries
Why and why....
Cause you judge

Hundred's faith is sealed by

of service, to the collective
Emancipate your free will

Liberty is yours by making the void blossom
Clarity for the unconscious, emancipate your free will