this recording came about from reading on the very topic of the title. as I was completing another liturgy in my own life and speaking from a very personal place of sadness and despair i noted the energy of the song demanded a more extroverted and generalized angle and began to take on an anthem-like quality for the disenchanted and unique fellow freaks of the world. I had to include the end-lyrics taken from Rocky Horror;s final scene.
lyrics
morose & macabre
morose, macabre, and dementia- credentials for our generation
Quis Custodiet
happy with less feel the tension-wearing all black like protection
Ipsos Custodiet-moral decay
simple to simulate symptoms, the shrieking, the night-life requests its own feeding- the bleating of sheep tears a hole in the lining-lying leaves lush little tears in your sour eyes.
questions slither
question the worth of existence is frowned on and met with
resistance
deep & sinister
in pill-form your fed quick-fix answers-like wrought iron gates
of miasma
pill-form you're sold a lie- coil, collide
creatures creep out from your cortex, coaxed free by bright pixel media virus, new zombie somnambulistic sub missives, (our) cabalas keep us
resistant way down inside
on the way from the womb to the grave, then find your zen as your skin melts away.
a Peculiar Morbid Condition sets in and it stops us from joining the maddening masses-consumption's the fashion of seasonal bigots who forfeit their freedom for status- disgustingly.
who are we? what are we?
where are we going to finad all the answer questions like...?
who? what? why? where?
a Peculiar Morbid Condition decoding our advertaining industry, mind-numb network of wrapping organics in plastics- eugenics. recombinant DNA- weed out the weaklings-
and what is is tells us to tear up our oceans and kill ourselves off with our fancy new weapons- and rape all the lands that would house us forever- our only defense is to find ourselves hope in a...
Peculiar Morbid Condition
"and crawling on the planets face- some insects called the human
race. lost in time, lost in space, and meaning."
credits
from A Snifter of Dyrraengements,
track released January 1, 2004
written, performed, and recorded A. H. Wyrm
mastered by Tom Gordon of Inspired Amateur Studios
all that is decayed, frayed, lost, feared, banned, and secretly lusted for open the door a crack, in the end its all left
for the wyrms
~ i crawl in, I crawl out~
also see: orphansofaliens.bandcamp.com
Straddling the threshold between studio performance and digital technique; the NYC artist applies "fake jazz" principles to synthpop. Bandcamp New & Notable May 2, 2024
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