Titan

by Eye of the Enemy

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    Eye of the Enemy - Titan - 2019 Album

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04:25
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02:52
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released October 11, 2019

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Eye of the Enemy Melbourne, Australia

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Track Name: Clay
You’re obstinate,
contrarian,
electrical-storm proletarian

and the fire that’s keeping me warm
is burning to cinders the secrets rescinding the war.

Nefarious,
sarcastically fucking gregarious,
and I’m frayed, I’m tired, I’m flayed, I’ve tried and I’ve failed,
so I’m walking away.


Shut up.
There’s no end on this page
for my succubus-cum-necrophage.
Every word trephinates
the skull you emptied of joy
and tried to replace

with your void,
your saccharine and frivolous noise.
You’re a mannequin modeled off harridans
hung for their poise,
and their ploys.

One if by land,
two if by sea,
three if the monarch’s here
and she’s bending the knee.

Bastards,
yeah I know there were.
Bastards;
your mind a frog put to boil.
As it turns out
I’m a glutton.
I’ve let bitches
push my buttons.

But none of them like you.
None of them like you.

(you’re just a)
Shut up.
Caustic happenstance;
down the drip feed I’m fed.

Every word you intone
tears my skin from my flesh,
and my flesh from my bones.

My bones.

There’s a reason you’re dying alone;
the intent of your sentences
grind together like stones.

Bastards,
yeah I know you were.
Bastard,
your mind; the graveyard of toil.
As it turns out
I’m a glutton.
I’ve let bastards
push my buttons.
But none of them like you.

None of them like you.

Bastards,
I don’t care there were.
Bastards,
your mind; a stamp on my world.
And without you
I am empty.
Everyone since
gave me plenty
but none of them are you.

None of them are you.

Bastards,
we can’t even struggle through.
Bastards,
all the construct can do is construe.
All my insides, made of clay.
There’s no reason to go or to stay.
There’s
no one left like you.

No one left like you.
Track Name: Empire
I can bargain with your karma,
loan you zen, sell testimony,
and you’ll buy it with a smile
because you’re numb and fucking lonely.

I won’t stand to be kept waiting long,
while the sirens sing their song
and the hull of the good ship Circumspect
is dashed upon my wrongs.

Don’t pester me;
let the hole infested fester.
Don’t hector me;
your lecherous didactic lectures
are not surrogacy
for the thoughts you think you’re thinking.

Little one, plague has come,
yet you tear me down.

And though the rain comes pouring over,
and though the rats come pouring in,
and though the curtains dropped, it’s over;
you tear me down.

And though the rain comes pouring over,
and though the rats come pouring in,
and though the curtains dropped, it’s over;
you tear me down.

You tear me down.

Why am I the fucking worm
in your terminal sojourn?
Your face a buffet
in its resting place.
Little one, plague has done
what I was scared to do.
I tried to help you through,
yet you tear me down.

And though the rain comes pouring over,
and though the rats come pouring in,
and though the curtains dropped, it’s over;
you tear me down.

And though the rain comes pouring over,
and though the rats come pouring in,
and though the curtains dropped, it’s over;
you tear me
down.

Nonsense,
nonsense where your head should be.

I stand on giants shoulders
isolated by a guillotine.
No one remembers
the man of integrity.

I stand on giants shoulders
isolated by a guillotine.
No one remembers
the man of integrity.

Look out below
for the footprints left in snow
alone when things are slow,

but a pair
part when things are going right.
Redundant fight or flight.
I don’t need a guiding light
if we avoid the night.

I can show you nothing if your mind has the means
to glean the empty space between a death and a dream.
Again.

What a wonderful form of dread.
Unscalable;
your formidable wall of dead.

You cast your lot

with the sinners of Babel and Sodom and rot.
Track Name: Of Blood and Wine
Light the fuse
and break bread with the one you keep slightly bemused.
Make your peace
as you piece together platitudes for the deceased.

Bray
for blood and closure,
for hope and wine.
Forgiveness clandestine;
induced ennui.

I will save for myself naught but a fraction.

(Could be better)
Could be worse,
just ignore where the skin starts to bubble and burst.
Dance through the storm.
Your only options are to drown or to die of thirst.

Bray
for blood and closure,
for hope and wine.
Forgiveness clandestine;
induced ennui.

Rats heads!
Rats heads!
(as a type of control and couture)
Rats heads!
Rats heads!
(as a token of gratitude)

They’ve never tried to speak, they’ve never deigned to listen.
What we took as mystique was fucking noxious obsolescence.
That part of me that seeks something of a vestibule to funnel torture into truth;
slice the sick in me out.

Sway.
Sway.
Sway.
Sway.
Such a lacklustre formative day.
Stay
away,
and let slip the dogs as they

bray
for blood and closure,
for hope and wine.
Forgiveness clandestine;
induced ennui.

Expose the wound
and let leak an inkling of verbal refuse.
Sink the blade
into the body of the babe that you wanted to turn into.

Burn.
As I breathe only fire can help me.

Burn.
As I breathe only fire can help me.
Track Name: The Artist's Decay
I’ve tasted love before
but never in service of scabbing a cheek,
and I’ve purged my flaws
by drinking the genes of the meek.

Tear away, melt away
bulwarks of reinforced distaste.
Lay prostrate, suffocate,
choke on the causal remains
of a wolf made deranged.

Never unheard, always the first on the scene.
Extant from the herd, sheltered by propriety.
(I’ve tasted love before
but never in service of scabbing a cheek.
And I’ve purged my flaws
by drinking the genes of the meek)

Protest
process.
Protect progress, it’s a warning.

Moses blooms undue.
You’ll either consume or undo.
It’s love in the age of dismay
born of the artist’s decay.

I’ve tasted mud before
You tricked me, you waited until I was weak
and force fed me the floor
with your boots, behind my teeth.

You listen to me, to what I reveal:
Truth is a concept that God can repeal

I AM A GOD
I AM YOUR GOD
I AM ELATION UNFOLDED
ANGER BEHELD
SADNESS
REVULSION
LOVE
HUMAN EVOLVED

Protest
process.
Protect progress, it’s a warning.

Moses blooms undue.
You’ll either consume or undo.
It’s love in the age of dismay
born of the artist’s decay.

Never say nothing’s changed,
I am the reason that seasons leave lesions on oceans and seas.

Nothing ventured, apoplectic.
Wise to tie your failure to providence
bitch.

Nothing gained, apathetic.
Just happy to salt the soil.

My machines need oil.

My machines need oil,
get grinding grief.
My machines need oil,
dredge up what’s kept beneath.

My machines need oil.
Track Name: Stress and Colours
And though the fear has passed
I know
that this hollow sophistry
is just residual entropy.

An asinine confluence
of dull minds and
embittered revelry;
your embarrassing sciamachy.

Wretched, unhinged, unholy,
besotted with silk and folly.

And yet their faces, familiar,
the contours
a picture
of grace once withheld
now left in squalor to melt.

Before our world could start
we tore ourselves apart.
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Burn with the love, unsold,
the lies that you were told.
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Poison (purpose),
melt your resolve.
Happily graft to the truncheon
made of your bones,
wielded by saviours,
reticent to leave good deeds unseen.

And whether you’re a product of the meek or the wild
- inherited genetics from a womb crystallized -
you’ll never be wrong, never need to bend,
be the last defence against the unwashed throng
(this can’t be the end).

Before our world could start
we tore ourselves apart.
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Burn with the love, unsold,
the lies that you were told.
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Before our world could start
we tore ourselves apart.
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Burn with the love, unsold,
the lies that you were told.
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Before our world could start;
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.

Burn with the love, unsold;
I exist as
nothing but stress and colours.
Track Name: Tabula Rasa
Instrumental
Track Name: Titan
awaken,
turn epiphanies into tragedies.
Stay unshaken
As the valleys and peaks
start to tremble and creak.

Bow,
before the dirt starts falls,
suspended by tension,
taut between reason and
laws I ignore,
I implore you to abhor.

I am your reasoning, I am your faults.
I am coherence and dissonance making you whole.
Making you more than results.

All your gods
lay their weapons at my feet.
I’m the epitome of sweet misery
(and antipathy).

Cowed
by a form wrought sublime.
Suspected dimensions
made impossible by design,
maddening and byzantine.

I am a priori, I am the precedent,
I am the preference and precepts of all that’s existent.
I AM MAGNIFICENCE.

All your gods
Lay their weapons at my feet.
I’m the epitome of sweet misery.

All my gods,
All the weight they place on me.
I’m the epitome of antiquity.

I’m your tabula rasa
On which you etch excuses.
Track Name: Cinders
This vision
built purposefully to accidentally lie.

The surface,
a gilded sheen designed to ween you,
bleed you dry.

Inaccessible,
esoteric, emblematic
and unattainable;
a word forever out of reach.

My lights are turning out.
The lights attracted prey.
The lights that burnt relationships;
left cinders in my wake.

My lights are turning out.
The lights attracted prey.
The lights that burnt relationships;
left cinders in my wake.

Inaccessible,
esoteric, emblematic
and unattainable;
a word forever out of reach.

My lights are turning out.
The lights attracted prey.
The lights that burnt relationships;
left cinders in my wake.

My lights are turning out.
The lights attracted prey.
The lights that burnt relationships;
left cinders in my wake.
Track Name: Abrasive Turns of Phrases
The wait, the gait
of men divorced of meaning
betrays their state
as pigeons stopped from preening.
A plaintive plea
is useless sophistry.

I never wanted to be questioned why
I’m here, now.

Grey, and unmoved.
Twitching, unceasing,
the tension taut between
pain, unsoothed,
and loss, twice removed.

Normalised the fucking state of life
where the fog alludes
to the internment of mind.
The interminable stay in a section of swaying thoughts
and retorts.

I, I can’t escape what’s prophesied,
but I refuse to treat the wisdom as received
just because another life has felt reprieve.

Narcissistic terms, apologist conditions.
Strenuous in turn; constant atonal renditions
of unconscious whims, sung by damaged neural strings.
I can’t help what I can’t see
but I don’t presume what I could be

I’d rather be alone, than leave a space for spacelessness.
I’d rather not intone, the morbid hymns of gracelessness.
I’d rather be alone, than be a space for spacelessness.
I’d rather not intone, the morbid hymns of gracelessness,

and stress;
a constant source of weakness.
Your hand, interned, immune to touch and life and burns.

You are not their progeny
even if you want to be.

I’d rather be alone, than leave a space for spacelessness.
I’d rather not intone, the morbid hymns of gracelessness.
I’d rather be alone, than be a space for spacelessness.
I’d rather die at home, than leave your face a sordid
mess.

I never wanted to be questioned why
I’m here,
now.

Pushing the envelope.
Punish the interloper.
Pressure our nascent joy to stray.

If I could write the beauty of your eyes
(You are the pebbles that my self runs over.)
and in fresh numbers, number all your graces
(You texture me - you move the way I move.)
the age to come would say “this poet surely lies,
(You bend my surface - you reshape my groove,)
such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces.”
(break the perfection of the rhythmed sliding surface of my heart.)

Faces.

Faces, unclean, they gleam
with saline acceptance.

Phases, abrasive turns of phrases, like “life is a veil of tears.”
Track Name: Hooks and Wires
I,
I’m feeling fine
just wasting time
by watching debutants
all dressed in brine.

And that besides
formaldehyde
needs help preserving this life.

My arms around your shoulders,
like a rope around your neck.
Hearts beat to stay unbroken.

My arms around your shoulders,
like a rope around your neck.
Hearts beat to stay unbroken.

I,
I’m feeling fine.
I’ll wear your hide,
and drape your conscience,
wet, over the side

of my empire
of hooks and wires
from which I hang desires.

My arms around your shoulders,
like a rope around your neck.
Hearts beat to stay unbroken.

My arms around your shoulders,
like a rope around your neck.
Hearts beat to stay unbroken.

Patience patients,
lest you float away.

My eyes are Turing holes
filled with bending rays.
And my mind; vestigial growth
determined by brain states.

But as you dissipate
to try to disappear
would it kill you just to
leave me a gratuity.

No lessons learned in chains,
no prayers save those you make in vain.
No walls to string you by your veins.
No bleach to wash away the strain.

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