Crisis - Methodology Lyrics
has the light become part of the machinery?has the hand become part of the disease?has the body become the unwilling vessel?hahahaha how simple to peel away the skin and cut away the flesh.to discard and dispose or preserve of brain, vertricle, heart, lungs...to be left with bones...stitching the pieces of appendage of directed sight and speech.dictating placement of footsteps and embrace.SERVE MY DESTINYSERVE MY PROPHECYSERVE MY FUTURESERVE MY FUTUREthe master man maker; twitching the thread of a thigh bone,twisting the stitch of a wrist moving toward its destiny...SERVE MY DESTINY PROPHECY FUTUREbeading the twinkle of an eye to shine on only one truth.casting a lock of hair meant to strangle the last bit of hope.YOU ARE THE MASTERYOU ARE THE DOLL MAKERYOU ARE THE SLAVE CREATORstring them up to teach them your languageYOU ARE THE MASTERYOU ARE THE SLAVE CREATORhahaha an individual with choices to make you are not.you merely play into my hands, the web I weave.I twist you in like a fly. and you no longer think.and you no longer feel. and this is the dance you do.and this is the dance you do.building the confines of trust and obedience,housing the weakness of winged spiritsand capture the mystery of otherness.YOU ARE THE MAN MAKERYOU ARE THE WILL BREAKERYOU ARE THE LIFE TAKERcage them up to keep them from falling out of linepuppet strings begin to twist. a master hand... do you know who I am?SERVE MY DESTINY. SERVE MY PROPHECY. SERVE MY FUTURE.this garden breeds the yellow pestilence of wicked fingersat work among the living. branches are broken for postureand structure of spineless cloth sacks of arms and legsand face and neck of the master
