Silence

dark rap, sound art, jazz, trip hop, swing, dramatic, soulful, delta-blues

I have tasted death, just as sweetly as some have tasted life,

I sampled the apothecaries of madness, the crescent halls of the gallant, the war torn alleyways and street poppers who sing hymns for the pour,

I have reached out for the depth of riches and known only my fathers ashes,

I have mourned for the dead, and lost more than can be said, but all of it gives way to the silence.

We fight wars to be heard, to be recognized and remembered, but the only thing that remembers us are the silent,

all of this that carries is is forgotten, all of is and what was is buried beneath the cathedrals built on love,

between the hallows and sacred,

between the landfills of sacred contempt,

comes thought without contemplation, words with no end, and mindless processions without recompense,

I have stood at their doorsteps, at the foothills of Democracy and seen no shining hills,

or free men with mentioning, I have heard their cries, listen to their pleas, fought their wars in the name of the

all of this that carries is is forgotten, all of is and what was is buried beneath the cathedrals built on love,

between the hallows and sacred,

between the landfills of sacred contempt,

comes thought without contemplation, words with no end, and mindless processions without recompense,

I have stood at their doorsteps, at the foothills of Democracy and seen no shining hills,

or free men with mentioning, I have heard their cries, listen to their pleas, fought their wars in the name of their God, against their leaders.

I have lined the pockets of bankers. But all are bereft of wanting. All are waning.

True lives live truly wanting, free of regretting, free of the sorrows of war, of the pleas of the rich and protestations of the poor, of the covetousness of evil men, and the pride and folly of the dead,

I look far away from the kingdoms of men, their kingdoms are built for them,

but I am a soldier in search of a land, one that knows me and knows who I am, one that speaks my name

bankers. But all are bereft of wanting. All are waning.

I look far away from the kingdoms of men, their kingdoms are built for them,

but I am a soldier in search of a land, one that knows me and knows who I am, one that speaks my name and has me deal fairly, one built on more than just the graves of righteous men. In that I am cursed to never speak, so long as I seek,

I shall never utter a single word, my lessons are folly, my hours are trivial as my days are forgotten, the stone is broken and the church is rotten,

I am the last of a breed, the last of an army, so long as I live the truth lives with me,

but I will be the last of better men,

the last of them,

My death will be the death of democracy,

What’s left of us will lay silently with the dead.

[Fade]

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I have tasted death, just as sweetly as some have tasted life, I sampled the apothecaries of madness, the crescent halls of the gallant, the war torn alleyways and street poppers who sing hymns for the pour, I have reached out for the depth of riches and known only my fathers ashes, I have mourned for the dead, and lost more than can be said, but all of it gives way to the silence. We fight wars to be heard, to be recognized and remembered, but the only thing that remembers us are the silent, all of this that carries is is forgotten, all of is and what was is buried beneath the cathedrals built on love, between the hallows and sacred, between the landfills of sacred contempt, comes thought without contemplation, words with no end, and mindless processions without recompense, I have stood at their doorsteps, at the foothills of Democracy and seen no shining hills, or free men with mentioning, I have heard their cries, listen to their pleas, fought their wars in the name of the all of this that carries is is forgotten, all of is and what was is buried beneath the cathedrals built on love, between the hallows and sacred, between the landfills of sacred contempt, comes thought without contemplation, words with no end, and mindless processions without recompense, I have stood at their doorsteps, at the foothills of Democracy and seen no shining hills, or free men with mentioning, I have heard their cries, listen to their pleas, fought their wars in the name of their God, against their leaders. I have lined the pockets of bankers. But all are bereft of wanting. All are waning. True lives live truly wanting, free of regretting, free of the sorrows of war, of the pleas of the rich and protestations of the poor, of the covetousness of evil men, and the pride and folly of the dead, I look far away from the kingdoms of men, their kingdoms are built for them, but I am a soldier in search of a land, one that knows me and knows who I am, one that speaks my name bankers. But all are bereft of wanting. All are waning. True lives live truly wanting, free of regretting, free of the sorrows of war, of the pleas of the rich and protestations of the poor, of the covetousness of evil men, and the pride and folly of the dead, I look far away from the kingdoms of men, their kingdoms are built for them, but I am a soldier in search of a land, one that knows me and knows who I am, one that speaks my name and has me deal fairly, one built on more than just the graves of righteous men. In that I am cursed to never speak, so long as I seek, I shall never utter a single word, my lessons are folly, my hours are trivial as my days are forgotten, the stone is broken and the church is rotten, I am the last of a breed, the last of an army, so long as I live the truth lives with me, but I will be the last of better men, the last of them, My death will be the death of democracy, What’s left of us will lay silently with the dead. [Fade]

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