New American Gospel

CD - 2000 Prosthetic Records

Track Listing

1. Black Label
2. A Warning
3. In the Absence of the Sacred
4. Letter to the Unborn
5. The Black Dahlia
6. Terror and Hubris in the House of Frank Pollard
7. The Subtle Arts of Murder and Persuasion
8. Pariah
9. Confessional
10. O.D.H.G.A.B.F.E.

Black Label

The human condition is inherit claustrophobia. Compression of my space made complete. I would rip out my own entrails by hand just to be alone. Inanity rolls total through this sphere. Ostracized for clarity of vision. A dream unrealized of solitude that I should descend into autonomy and know the pain of fellowship no more. I feel nothing but lack of space. Paradox of socialization results in duress. Rife with hostility, what has caused me so much hate? Humanity. Exterminate with extreme prejudice.

A Warning

I'm a monster so don't walk my way. Don't trust my smile my teeth are like knives, I'll drag you down and suck you dry. Don't laugh at my jokes- the punchline is murder. Don't enjoy my touch, every caress hides a chokehold. I'm only happy when I've ruined everything I see. Believe everything you've ever heard about me- suck it up. If you see me coming don't stop, just turn and walk the other way. I will not lie about what I have done, I will not lie about what I will do to you, the sweat of my exertion is pure poison, I'm hell...

In the Absence of the Sacred

Violence a natural reaction in a society whose advances are limited to its new technology; different only in the current mode of destructive intent. Data has replaced real life in this world, no hope for the stop of "progress". Inevitable bio-link implant will replace the feel of human touch. All memory surrogates downloaded bought and sold, no true sense of self. Impending sensory death looming near. A number, this is what you've become. Life digitized itemized commodified. Ha, ha, ha this is what you work for...

A Letter to the Unborn

The Black Dahlia

I am the ones and the zeros that control commerce and file you silently far away. I am the children starving in the gutter bellies full of unabated poverty. I am nihilism no future base instinct realized environmental collapse. I am life. I am the corpse of decency crucified on a post of greed and moral decay. I am man. Submit and surrender unto Caesar what is his rightful due. Complete oppression no catharsis in emphatic contempt for all of life. I am man.

Terror and Hubris in the House of Frank Pollard

All the fucked up things trap and punish me I cannot explain my problem. Kill my hopeless life I cannot be hypnotized. You owe me. Push aside the veil to welcome in the visitors. Eyes like halogen illuminate the soma peering out of spherical night mask. Paleolithic subconscious icons lumber through dreamscape archtype of archangel. Topside its far worse- infants painted gauze peer from murky jars; soon I'm wearing the skin of the morning star. Green locks my name fills an empty banner. Frank, what have you gotten me into now? I am not afraid to speak my heart and mind it cannot be saved sell me over. Fuck your hopeless world, I am blacker than the sun. Tragedy. Have you seen the speedy yes? Bleeds through the sleep onto the page. I'm sailin'...

The Subtle Arts of Murder and Persuasion

The dark crow man sits and stares into oblivion into cold into nothingness; it's snowing in his mind. HeÌs created himself in his own image. Lust held for him means naught, a knock on the door brings no smile to his cruel lips; the welcome in a woman's eyes holds nothing for him. Alone on his haunches the hair raises on the back of his neck. His dead eyes pierce the night. As his gaze falls down on the city it fills him the method ascertained, conviction. He knows what to do and moves to commit the deed.

Pariah

The sore on the edge of your mouth it mirrors the ones on your arm of black tar you've known the ripping. And I've seen you pissing your condition into the dirt. I know what you don't want to living in the dirt you want to you know nothing but dirt you know you can't beat weakness. Kill the flux. Stretched to breaking an obscene canvas on a stretcher of parasitism. You piece of shit I won't say your name but I will say this- FUCK OFF AND DIE (sooner the better...). You've shot out your eyes but I'm seeing that you cannot feel anything of worth. Know that you've pissed life away, lost in your narcotic dreams. Heart pumping futile shit through your veins. Why does it bother? I want to punch in your sunken face and see you dusty blood smear through the air in a polluted crimson arc, splattering in a useless pattern on the concrete. Moribund.

Confessional

Intrinsic rot. Traces of future. Your past will rise haunting you again. Tounging the glue stamp seal of your fold. Cased in forests of black steel rod. Vines of nerve float down streams. Sections of horror. This is something you must never do again. Falling spiral down. You know not what you are looking for but it will find you anyway. I've confessed this disease to you. Handed you a key to control. Fuel for your malicious intent. punish me for my failure. Dissect my faith. Twisting my trust. Never, no more. IÌm alone.

O.D.H.G.A.B.F.E.

Hate. Falling three feet to the ground. Face down on the cold floor of a well-oiled SF pigsty I met my one true love. Feel youth crushed somewhere between concrete and a boot, another victim of the lower hate. You are not my god. You think this is funny don't you, pig? How the helpless freak squirms beneath our state sanctioned soles, but what is he laughing at? There was nothing padded about a wagon full of mace rotator cuff hyper extends behind my back ribs cracking beneath a rain of sticks and heels falling down like the rain outside. Oh yeah bitch, I'm gonna remember your face your name your number; and when I crawl out of this hole I'm going to make you all mine. Auschwitz Kent State Chi-Town 68 Tianamen Waco.