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Friday, March 25, 2011

Some Kind Of (Conspiracy)

Music and Lyrics: Connor Jerzy and Geoff Le Blanc

Edited and Mostly-Mixed By: 
That African (

I find it hard to stew on things,
When inner energies are constantly renewed,
so you're consistantly refueled
by heart-songs of main-stream zombies.
I felt them upon me,
Like the shade from that Ghana palm tree.
When I was first immersed in culture,
"Oseyeii" my shining West African Star!
In a sky drown out by streetlight,
and compact hybrid cars...
Agrofuel still only goes so far.
Although we grow that maize,
it only goes so far.

And with the sounds of Olympic construction,
seems like a perfect introduction,
for a little meditation instruction
to free my mind from
the tiring and conspiring corruption.
Concentrate on lightless eyelids
without static interruption.
Its then, only then
when your in utter zazen
you don't have to pretend,
for you are complete and all knowing
You all know where this is all going...
We're just reaping what we're sowing...

Move past your boundaries,
pump out your passion in supersonic,
sub-cockle foundries.
Simply say "Hi!" to your neighbours,
move past the the 'good mornings'
and on to 'see you later's
If you ask me, what do I see as greater?
Progressive attitudes,
that even compliment failure.
Because those who fail,
are simply purveyors, relayers,
for its truly those who try
who are endangered.
We're estranged from reality
through infomercial calamity
(such a tragedy)
For those who see,
unplug themselves.
It becomes habitual to submit
to digital movie shelves.
I try to take myself seriously,
but my transdimensional reflection
ain't hearing me!
Inner gear in movement,
they just don't want you to use it
I guess it's some kind of conspiracy.

Some times I feel like I left my whole soul behind
In the confines of classrooms
and  space-time grass roots.
But I'm still trying to blast through
Crash course with my conscience
Cause physical form is all nonsense
Equivalent to Fiction...
Laced in Contradiction...
Blocks out his intuition.
Exfixation on self-infliction,
of my mental apparatus ,
because my mind's a passive fist.
But I'm not the only one feeling this way
Admit those doubts, for anything else is here-say
Instead you stick to what the
pristine-green and the beer say
Chantings cheers although its
helpless jeers coming your way.
And you treat others in your path
like they owe you something,
and when they ask for help
it's like you owe them nothing.
live by that golden rule
treat others how you wanna be treated
or else its meaningless,
and we've all been defeated.

But we will never concede
to this greed
that they lead us to
or teach us through.
It's only me and you,
me and you,
me and you.

Rhetoric of the degenerates.
Hell-bent on being god-sends.
Apprehending those defending.
In-service to insurgents,
with the soul purpose,
to make worthless,
those not enslaved as civil servants.
Trapped within serfdom.
Disguised by a velvet curtain
of practical purpose.
Blind coercion
through the Old Testament
the millennium version.

Get on your tinfoil hats,
this is a big one.

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