"All that you touch you change
All that you change changes you
God is change"
Octavia Butler
Earthseed student
Elusive knowledge
Knowledge the journey
Momento mori
I must accept what's inevitable
Not yet
Not yet
I feel foreign, may be my nature
Forest
Metaphor for a forewarning
When the storm's forming
Sure enough losin' my coordinates
Torn up roots of my story
Would I die for it or forfeit it
Is it my ordinance or is
All of this more or less a performance
Informant as dormant as doormats
Seems that we can't afford asking anymore
Yet any less is boring
Needless to say I keep recordin' it
Seeds sowed we don't reap all of 'em
Fortunate the bar above a modicum
We know not when the harvest come
Rule is you'll leave it to the arbiters
Pawns lined up like dominoes
Tumble like laundered clothes
Stomach in a knot, no, not no nautical
I don't know why no more (Why)
Evergreen leaves don't fall in
Fall when all others long goners
But every epoch is a departure
And God alone knows what's comin'
Tree branches a secant to the circle of life
I could see taking shortcuts, sure, but my circle is tight
Somebody give me a word of advice
No shortage of lies
Was I born or comprised
Product of soil or soylent
Silence is an option
Less and less the more that I find
I don't know where I am or to begin
(I don't know who, I don't know where, I don't know how)
I don't know why I am who I am
(Why)
I fell for it, followed my nurture
Formless
Molding my mental discordance
More every morning
Sure enough losin' assurance
In what I thought was my story
Should I fight for or abhor it
Did I write this or absorb it
All of our common sense is imported
Coordinates more than a point on a map
We feasibly can't afford asking
What that means till the next EP
I'll just say I'll be reporting it
Proletariat or a laureate?
What I am all depends what you observe
No one hidin' from the eye of Sauron
Why I codify a message in the obscure
Contours and the corridors of my cortex vex minotaurs
It's a Mordor-esqe fortress, so a tour mean a war vet
Vet the tourists at the door with a warning
Enter at your own risk
The truth too morbid for most
Most choose the illusion
Worship the throne as the ultimate goal
But it's only an ornament owned
By the corporate board (Bored board)
You know what that makes us right
Pawns or a respawned ghost in the shell
I was born in a hoax, and I woke
With a thorn in my throat as I tell you
All they sell you's your own soul
I do not know who I am
("All that you touch changes you")
I do not know why I can't
Why