Locusts - The Somnambulist Awakens

by jon simpson

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1.
Stasis 02:30
2.
Emergence 03:59
what has roused me to this state from days uncounted in repose breathe this air so foul in taste body gives in to birthing’s throes hazy eyes, unfocused, burning limbs unstretched, unused with time atrophied and trembling every movement strained pulse once measured [and] regulated lurches in arrhythmia mind clouded and confused now free of control a stranger to my homeland the known undone how could this ever have been home
3.
Storm 04:33
break the chains and do not sink open your hearts to the suffering stand, oh, stand, even as alone courage to light the dark undone injustice built into our walls silence bought with creature comforts weapons borne of privilege make victim the helpless conquest and abuse the system: oppression justice is now privatized only for those who can buy it law does not equal justice and privileged power overrides law one's value does not change because you cannot see their worth; wrong is sold as right evil's shrewd veneer the virus, welcomed through how it appears regard the weak stand now will our reign of terror end on whom can the weak depend we've sown a whirlwind and the harvest has come disaster is at the door [these laws are not designed to guard the common man, but the regime from the violence of the marginalized and poor. evil has become fashion, the fortunate wearing the skins of the enslaved, walking on the backs of the oppressed.] [meanwhile the privileged keep silent, soothed with the benefits of institutionalized injustice. any perceived threat to the artifice of fairness transforms humans into aggressors, all too quick to attack the ones most defenseless.] [the progression is the same: first marginalized, then crushed into the earth. upon witnessing the unfortunate’s prostrated form, the right to trample them again is claimed, because the victim is already down.] [when will we discover that our true nature is revealed in how we treat the weak? abuse and derision only give birth to itself.] one's value does not change because you cannot see their worth break the chains and do not sink bring light to the suffering
4.
Warmongers 03:38
our imaginations now have failed this lie to which we are ensnared: life is a property to defend instead of beauty we must share we kill each other we kill our land violence will be our end there are no blessings for the warmonger their swords will stab at their own hearts trade your weapons for water's balm your ramparts are burning choose instead détente death lurks under façades of peace murder in both mind and flesh are real we cannot wash blood from our hands when it's our thoughts that shoot on demand offered to moloch our progeny and made bravado our sanctuary our mouths condemn us o rest assured (our) bodies will swing as we hang on our every word one humanity under the gun culture of death for everyone there are no blessings for the warmonger our swords will stab at our own hearts let's trade our weapons for water's balm our ramparts are burning won't we choose détente? where is the man of peace? where is the man of peace? where is the man of peace? where is the man of peace?
5.
Flinch 04:47
maintain a distance how can i hope to love when you've only shown me your pain given me this wound now what? denial? depression with a deep rage? here. it. comes again no! retreat until it's done scream! though no one ever hears endure, endure try to be strong but still i flinch what do you want me to say? stay silent or give a response then watch out! keep an eye on the hand can't trust don't care still i know one thing: it's me that can make you break, oh no! retreat until it's done scream! though you never care endure, endure try to be strong but still, but still endure, endure i try, but still the only touch that comes the only hand that reaches out is the one that causes pain the excuse you give may speak of "love" but the words that kill are what's been left unsaid
6.
Unsated 06:54
selfish, the heart hunger-filled to the core ravenous gluttons, we are empty vice illusion of life all delight is gone boredom and escape; what have we done? if we are empty, what have we become? a self-inflicted tear in the soul of humanity, we attempt to patch ourselves with another shopping spree our focus, hard, unflinching straight-lined to those curves pandora's box opened and blessing turns curse what have we begun? feeding a need that will not be denied what have we become? only the endless could fill us now or self-medicate until we drown grasping, using, never finding always left unsatisfied every move to soothe ourselves results in frustration, intensified cravings for more what have we become?
7.
Mind-Killer 07:36
everything around me stable everything is in its place all in my control and done at my own pace every door and window locked tight house alarm synched to my phone weapon's loaded in case they come while i am home navigation set to bypass the neighborhood just to the east color's changed, i'm sure that crime has now increased news and politicians tell me the threat is growing all the time of plots to steal my freedom [and] take what's rightly mine it's tiring chasing down this endless insistence on security thank god this chair fits where my spine once used to be pulse is racing, trouble breathing body's screaming fight or flee strange, the stranger always becomes the enemy frightened. yellow. prejudiced. humanity profaned gutless. coward. intransigent. barricade in shame desperate for deliverance. comfort sought birth to grave yet this antithesis of peacefulness drives it ever more away safety is superstition all plans to keep from danger are, in the end, no safer than outright exposure than complete disclosure our acts of independence are many tiny hinges on a heavy entrance to a life that's aimless open your hand see your own face in every man in every race their blood is my blood their pain is my pain made from the same dust we are the same only us in each circumstance, stand dread naught in the presence of all man dread naught giving everything you can dread naught all else is sinking sand our children cannot hold our weight prone to make the same mistakes absent of divinity still at work, the law of entropy
8.
hear this, royals and peasants every woman and man tell each generation that comes so all may understand a swarm of consuming evil has cut and stripped every branch a legion of locusts has invaded the land every field laid waste every joy is gone wretched. impure. lost. infected heart. sickened core. the light has now left my eyes curse the day i was born this decay has entered my bones and now i burn i cannot un-see this, i will not un-feel it i am a man of unclean lips, of a people of unclean lips though hands are lifted up, they will not be seen though many prayers are offered, they will not be heard my hands remain covered with the blood of the innocent seething illness. ruthless weakness. grief so endless. treachery. treachery. recognize this hideous truth: we feed our children on an atmosphere of deception and corruption our young raised into coldness and cruelty among parents who are, ourselves, estranged from love as we bind ourselves to transient vice - dead fettered to living in a union of souls the strong shackled to foolish young bound to the old all to delusion all to decline all to decomposition all to demise
9.
bir gün şu dünyadan göçüp gidersem
10.
distant of all hope aphelion completion the chill of death arrives yet these wounded orbs now see him perceive him like one who carries life infinite oasis flows from his hands to dry lands the thirsty, satisfied this oculist, son-king, nears and, reaching into me, eternity comes flooding over me mind’s programming has cracked communichaos now hacked buried deep under greed they didn't know we were seeds now: this shell, cleansed of disease eyes clear, open to see no longer forsaken awakened to a restoration

credits

released December 16, 2016

Written, produced, performed, and recorded by Jon Simpson.
Additional guitar by Gino Quinn and Ben McBride.
Mixed by J. Hall.
Mastered by Brad Blackwood at Euphonic Masters.
Artwork by Small Farm Creative.
Special thanks to Clay Parker for encouragement and conceptual assistance and contributions.

All songs published by BugNog Music (ASCAP)
© 2016 BugNog Music

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jon simpson Atlanta, Georgia

singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist... lover of life, learning to live... have guitar, will travel...

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