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The Fat is in the Fire

by Boatman's Toll

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1.
1. Slumber No More - Devoured by hatred, sickened by the sight of what has become the reflection. One by one the compromising slowly taking the toll. When the bill had come due, there was nothing left within my heart to pay the Devil's tab. Enough no longer being enough. Reaching back into the past. Pulling my former self into this corpse. The pain from darkness, born blinded by the light before my eyes. This world is strange to me. I do not recognize all that I see. How much time has passed while I laid inside this slumber? Down in this hole I see the star from where I fell illuminating the path I should climb. If I've been thrown once through the earth, then one lesson I have learned. As I reach up towards the surface, shut my eyes. From this open grave rise up into the night with a ravenous hunger inside. Desire for the vengeance of blood reignites these embers to fire, burning down the world around, raising from the ashes my grand new design. No longer will I suffer at the hands of self doubt. With rage and all its slumber I will fully live this second life.
2.
2. Corporate Indentured Servitude - Cursed from the moment of birth. Bound by the severest of men who inherit the fruits of my work and benefit from the labor of my hands as I am coerced and embroiled to remove my own soul from the soil. Given just enough to live to keep on working. Kept comfortable enough to never question why. They've made up stories of the ones who came before me. I am convinced that, with hard work, I too shall rise. Be where the Master leads. Eat what the Master feeds. Reap what the Master seeds. Weep when the Master bleeds. Die when the Master needs another profit increase. Lorded over me, this magick and this power. They gave a god to me to never question, "why?" They tell me my reward comes in my final hour, that I will want no more when I reach paradise, until I want to die. They preach and they teach and they advertise. It's such a liberating transformation when all of your false hope dies. Be no longer blind. Decide to rise. They said your work will set you free, but there's another way to be. Cleansing Wall Street yuppie greed, World Bank sucklers. Now is the time to align the corporate whores up to the wall. Stone them all with their fool's gold. Dreams and drones, thieves and clones. Stack the stones. Crack their bones.
3.
3. Becoming the Flood - A touch of water to the head in the shape of a prayer. You just arrived from nowhere. Bound by nothing and steered by stars, now here you are, surrounded and ours. Surrounded and ours. Showered with love and gifts from above, and warned of his power, and told of the Flood. And eat of his body. And drink of his blood. And warned of his jealousy. And told of the Flood. And told of the Flood. The pointing of fingers, the giving of thanks. Obsession with splinters, ignoring the planks. The taking of weapons. The forming of ranks. The spilling of innocent blood. The giving of thanks. Surrounded by imagined enemies and blessed by the dove. And driven to murder. And told of his love. And baptized in violence. And christened in blood. And welcomed in Heaven and showered with love. Becomming the Flood.
4.
4. In the Falling Away - In the Falling Away, the outstretched hand gets slapped away for your precious escape, a backward path that has been made. God only knows how terror grows and gets in close. Turns us to Ghosts. In the Falling Away, my fingertips still burn for your proximity. So close, and yet so far. So distant, but inside of me. That day is far from dead, repeating forever in my head. So fleeting, the time we had to spend believing that there would be no end. Deceiving. What was that missing word we could have used to end this shame? I scream them at your grave. They still all sound the same. This face no longer bearing your name. The lines tracing, tracing the grey, tracing the grey. How should I feel? Should I curse you under breathe? How could I peel away the flesh 'til nothing's left? How would we know we'd never bring the fallen home? You left us alone forever to be haunted by your Ghost in the Falling Away.
5.
Cat Food 04:37
5. Cat Food - Time has finally come for us to begin to thin this herd. Nature would suggest the answer's a natural predator. They travel in migrating packs. Bunches of hungry jungle cats. So keep aware and keep up or you won't make the cut. When they're terrorizing the weak, the last thing you want to be is a sheep. The ape with the big brain, you can't be beaten. You're top of the food chain, until you're eaten. Keep you attention as straight and and honed as their razor claws, for doomed is the man who ever drops his guard at all. Keep your mind as quick and as sharp as their sabre-teeth. For dead is the man who walks around While he's half asleep. The social structure collapsed and blown away. This culture of comfort will be forever changed. You're living in the land of the lion now, wher to be propped uo is to be let down. A blessing dressed in bloody fur. A roar like none you've ever heard. The slow and the dull will be made a meal as their complacently mindless fates are sealed. The ape with the big brian, you can't be beaten. Top of the food chain, until you're eaten. They travel in migrating packs. Bunches of hungry jungle cats. So keep aware and keep up or you won't make the cut. The dumb and distracted, slovenly inactive. Cat food. Forgetful and fazed. Perpetually dazed. Cat food. So keep aware and keep up if you don't want to become cat food.
6.
Torn 04:41
6. Torn - I lost my soul back in the valley, where my hands did lay seige to reach this broken down kingdom. Blinded and deceived by this false Eden's light. Hypnotized by this golden promise that turned to ash in my hands. And for my sins of rage, forever banished from the Garden. It was such a price paid for the tasting of fruit. And as I wander through useless searches, only have I found your faithless churches. But I've seen the face of God, on the Devil that lives in my eye, smiling back from the mirror as all fades from the conscious. I'm torn.
7.
7. The Children of Death Herself - Brothers and sisters, fellow sons and daughters, children of the turner of the wheel. We once were one. Black magick separated and forced to war. Our numbers decimated. We've stayed the course, stone steered, no deviation. Awash in blood, return us to our nature within the womb. Reform this brand new creature. Sinew wraps bone. Our wills we bind as one. Let us be two no more. From common mother be reborn. We fight the same war. Should silence be needed, we must blend with the shadows. We must become as the shadows. We must strike from the shadows. We must wait to reveal ourselves. We are the children of Death herself. Eyes turned toward our common cancer. We shall remove. Lies and questions with no answers crushed into jewels.
8.
8. Nothing Means Nothing - Dark sisters three have pulled your strings. Now has come the time for me to cut the throat of he who brings false slander of the class that sings a song about a long dead age when judgement did fall equally. Mothers shaking violently, casting off the fleas. Self important monuments are washed into the sea. Illusions of control unveiled before your eyes. The greater head shall roll. He who leads shall fall behind. All your power struggles profit you none this day. The lesser shall be great. He who collects shall be made to pay. Only one truth remains. Nothing means nothing means nothing means nothing. The last will now be first. The quenched will now know thirst. Everything will be changed. Yet nothing will stay the same. So heavy is the head that wears the jeweled crown. So difficult to stoop or bend the royal neck to look down. So weighty are the golden sceptor and the throne. Such gilded glory only serves to help you sink like a stone. Nothing means nothing means nothing means nothing.
9.
9. Recycle the Flesh - Earth mother's dirt embrace. Black ascent. Hallowed space. Bared burden. Life unfair. Fall from Hell. Regress to dust. Torturous existence. Cancerous misery. Underworld beccons. Carrion prey. Ravens dance. Maggot melody. Croaking approval. Rotten feast. Life cycle broken. Embalmed with toxins. Petrified corpses. Mother's separation. Air taut seal. Body morphed warhead. Feed earth's creatures. Worthless preservation. Suspended brethren. Dead serve no purpose encased in sarcophagus, excluded from the planet. Envy the dead, for they know no religion is true. All preachers lie. Divinity does not inspire. To become immortal the flesh must be recycled. Recycle the flesh. Ravens dance. Maggot melody. Croaking approval. Rotten feast. Envy the Dead.
10.
10. The Fat is in the Fire - We are as doomed as the youth, bound by a truth they'll never grasp, finding no use in dwelling on the dealings of the past. We hold this warm stone, it only chills us to the bone. Pretend to be asleep and restrained. Pray they're far enough away not to hear your chains rattling as we dance in their open graves. Pretend to be alive every day. Pray. Believe even a slave can emancipate. Battling their control over future and fate. The chattel is rising. Now father and foster and nurture this hate into flame. Designed to drain the beating lifeblood from us all. These fast-food politics hide in their marble halls. This nation's burning, no water from the well. This moral poverty spawning our new hell. Freedom isn't free and isn't fair. The dream has disappeared into the air. Stripped and sold to bidder and to buyer. The fat is in the fire. And we let the flames rise higher. The fat is in the fire. Straight into the darkness of the night, the left follows the right. The right follows the left. We've beat this horse to death. Let's beat it once again until there's nothing left. Til there is nothing more. Have we not seen this all before?

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released April 5, 2017

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Boatman's Toll Chicago, Illinois

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