Thirst for Separation

Black light pours from the abysses
Of the white planes
Appropriate symbols of totemic power
Are spreading through the fabric of houses

Sailing through the titles of morning slander
In the search for meaning, bare speculations are born
We are so good at controlling that split reality
Rolling it on fingertips

Your Babylon
Is nothing
Compared to our thirst for
Separation

Verily
Language is a disease
It spreads a web of excitement
Of the imperious crowd

Verily
Language is a tyrant
The apologist of putrid dogmas
Through the static hum

Semantic satiation
The destruction of classes
The loss of the implication
The fall of all logical connections
General chaos
General chaos

Your Babylon
Is nothing
Compared to our thirst for
Separation

Verily
Language is a poison
Artificially created
In laboratories
The toxic mutagen
That is infiltrated
At all possible levels
Of meaning

Language is a weapon. Language is a weapon
Language is a weapon. And it's in my hands!
Language is a weapon. And it's in my hands!



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