Meshuggah - The Violent Sleep of Reason | The Official Website

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- CATCH THIRTY-THREE -

 
Autonomy Lost

 Reaching for the inner bright, the very essence-sun of my dreaming bliss
Guided by a fear blinded outside all shades of the perfect black
 
 
Imprint Of The Un-Saved
 The scattered jigsaw of my redemption laid out before my eyes
Each piece as amorphous as the other – Each piece in its lack of shape a lie
 
 
Disenchantment
 Me – the paragon of fear, an immobile skein of tangled nerves exposed
Hastily clawing my way into the darkest of my inner scenes of torture

I stay my breath to escape this slavery
I stay my breath to re-awake and face it encore
The struggle to free myself of restraints, becomes my very shackles
 
 
The Paradoxical Spiral
Non-physical smothering. Asphyxiation by oxygen hands
Drowning in the endless sky. An ever-downward dive, only to surface
the sewage of indecision, on which all sense of self is afloat
The vortex-acceleration a constant. Resolute in purpose its choking flow
 
 
Re-Inanimate
My ignorance cast in the mold of all things absolute
I sustain forever my gaze. A stare fixed on the distant oblivion
Resting in the inverted state of being dead, non-sensory matter
As all the earth, the wind, the fire, the sea behold and learn to pity me
 
 
Entrapment
Mutiny of self. Insurrection games convincingly performed
Incapacitated by physical thoughts acting out the will of tendon and bone
Have the bridges of insanity been crossed and forever retracted?
Am I standing among a thousand selves? Is the multitude of laughters mine alone?
 
 
Mind's Mirrors
The feeding frenzy of my starving soul, gnawing voraciously at the bones,
the exo-skeletal patchwork protecting my own reflection within;
The twin-and-same engaged in the mirrored act of chewing away
at the shell of my attacking self. The paradox unseen

Treacherous this deceit to make no choice matter
To have and yet lose yourself, until finally all reasons why are forgotten
To live through ones own shadow. Mute and blinded, is to really see
Eclipse the golden mirror and the reflection is set free
 
 
In Death - Is Life
So imminently visible – this cloaked innocent guilt
Sentenced to a lifetime, a second of structured chaos
Trampled by the ferocious, raging crowds of solitude
I’m the soil beneath me soaking up the sustenance of my own death

Extradited to the gods of chance, the deities of all things random
Alive, multicolored, twitching in their dead monochrome world
 
 
In Death - Is Death
Iridescent to the searhing eyes, I’m all things vivid in a world of grey
So easily spotted, so easily claimed in this domain where all is prey

My thoughts a radiant beacon to the omnidirectional hunter-god radar
I’m a markerlight of flesh to these subconscious carnivores
I am them. I am teeth. I’m their arousal at the kill
Feasting on self. A schizoreality warp. The contradiction fulfilled

Focus the only means to see me back to life’s unending swirl
A reversal of passing away, as the world of dead, as away is now my origin
 
 
Shed
I float through physical thoughts. I stare down the abyss of organic dreams
All bets off, I plunge - Only to find that self is shed
 
 
Personae Non Gratae
A lie to maintain equilibrium, to hold me in this dead realm – this last ever dream
I’m the thought that never crossed my mind – disguised in the evident. Forever unredeemed
 
 
Dehumanization
A new level reached, where the absence of air lets me breathe
I’m inverted electrical impulses. A malfunctioning death-code incomplete
All things before me, at first unliving glimpse undeciphered
Its semantics rid of logic. Nothing is all. All is contradiction

Grinding, churning – the sweetest ever noises
Decode me into their non-communication
A soundtrack to my failure, one syllable, one vowel

A stagnant flow of endings. Un-time unbound. Merging to form the multi-none
A sickly dance of matter, malignantly benign. Greeting the chasm – unbearable, sublime
 
 
Sum
Vision will blind. Severance ties. Median am I. True are all lies
 

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