1. |
Reversal
03:19
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Retrace your steps. The slow suicide of all began atop a spiraling bridge from which we have yet to jump, though we were never content merely to cross. The meek have made their ascent, but one alone has had the courage to make the leap of faith:
God is dead. Who now shall inherit the Earth?
And will you progress? If we sever the regulating finger of God, will we restore the people's faith in action? Or are we confined to a homemade tomb?
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2. |
Weaving
06:19
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How many hours does the artisan spend engulfed in the art of her web,
her delicate spinning and ornamental conception alive in the orb of her thread?
How many hours does the architect writhe as she covets the work of her peers?
No envious mimicking, dismay, or reluctance diverts her attention to fear.
Does she tire of exertion and planning the patterns when sewing the strands of her home?
In an elegant portrayal of basic survival, her canvas well augments her throne.
How can we learn the lessons of the spider?
For all our engineering, our cultural web was spun with no such vision. Architects with intimate understanding outlive those with infinite thrust. Will we be able to sacrifice stealth for a means of survival?
It's time to make a choice.
If we work, will we work forward or will we stagnate? If we take, will we replenish or will we fully exhaust? If we live, will we reciprocate or will we writhe in our own comfort?
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3. |
the Salt and the Sea
03:52
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Ineluctable modality of the visible. At least that if no more, thought through my eyes. And though my eyes have taken many shapes, the bruises on my throat remain a source for clarity of purpose. I feel thought, as a god, from all sources, but I've been ambushed nevertheless. This isn't the end of the story.
This is the forceful unity of a vision.
I carry a torch in the name of tradition.
I am No Man.
I'm imprisoned by the vastness of the
ocean 'tween me and Penelope.
If the gods have all seen fit to harness me,
there are few reasons left to act peacefully.
I shall blind or attack those whose paths I may cross,
for I have nowhere to turn but my helplessness.
I accept no more responsibility.
The tyrant who knows no remorse will never satisfy his thirst for the quest, so I keep him at sea. His hands are rife with guilty curiosity and the power to control.
The culture who knows no remorse will never satisfy its thirst for the quest, so we keep it asleep. Our hands are rife with guilty curiosity and the power to control.
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4. |
Mea Culpa
04:56
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Produce to consume: the formula for growing a fifth wheel has become a mainstay in our book of mistakes. Our eyes glisten, as our minds narrow, for no end seems in sight.
But tonight we have time at our feet, so let's decide: shall we dismantle these wheels, and burn the book that helped build them? Or take our chances and live out the ride? There's nothing we need that we haven't built before, and the dull complexion and rusty frame of our creation will go unnoticed as the familiar whir of the engine tells us the truth:
This is the end.
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Take Down Your Art Newark, Delaware
Take Down Your Art was a cursed band that existed from 2004 to 2005. Most of our recorded output was never properly released, for various reasons, but is all presented here for completeness.
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