1. AN ILLUSION OF MULTIPLE VOICES

Echoing amongst the trees
These voices hang in the air
Speaking without meaning
Speaking without end


2. MOUNTAIN

Mountain
The hole
The pain came to me
Buried under loose rock
Black coated lungs
Sharing our anthracosis
Descender
Falling dark soil
Varnished eyes
No trace left behind
A smokeless fire
Your deity is here
Your life is here
Descender
Stumbling feet cracked hands
They will never know


3. VISITANT

Atop your foal, you have fallen
With dirt on your face and bone
Exposed
Your hands clutch the soil
Crawl
Once; you made me the fool
Introducing endless poison in my
Body
This is the long road where I've
Lost everything
No one should have sympathy
For me
Only vapors remain of your cloak.
The cloak now removed from my
Eyes


4. THE GREAT UNWASHED

My hand cuts the blade
Digging towards the light
Enlightened mind
Staring at a dark sky
Blank faced
Standing in ignorance
(Embracing ignorance)
Lack of discernment
You're a living absurdity
Blank faced
Concretely placed
The mindset of the masses
Thoughts echo in an empty
Head
I have separated from the
Masses
My hands in your eyes
Your devastated intellect,
Left behind you
Awareness for what you've
Become
Sandpaper in the face of
Your ideals
I question the beginning and
The end


5. TERRA NULLIUS

(Instrumental)


6. DRIPPING SUN

Surrounded by the cold
The chalky moon fights the
Dripping sun
In that instant time slows
Possibilities become endless
My streaming consciousness
Is surging energy
Black walls
Stretching skin
Muted soul
Submerged in the warm em-
brace of my end
My expression now dim
They have promised me more
Than this
I've left nothing behind
My body left useless
Scraping moss from my sides
It's too late to turn back


7. THE UNWILLING

Looking for your future
You take to the earth
Lost with no point of
Origin
Your skin is like bark among
The trees you're lost in.
This is my domain.
At her weakest I can convince
Her of anything.
Salting her wounds
I'll tell you what to think
I'll take her last drops of
Blood
In the fog of history, atroci-
ties have been lost and will
Continue to be forgotten.


8. GHOST CHORUS AMONG OLD RUINS

Cold to the touch
My fingers are the first to
Animate
Timing, the only thing that
Separates this from the norm
Plunging into comfortable
Surroundings
With my senses heightened
This will not last long
The further down this path I
Walk
The more isolated I am
Was I made for this or shaped