THE GARDEN from THE HYMNS by DR. BLEAK

Have you taken the time to survey your surroundings and come to grips with the fact and reality that this is not Eden. This is concrete.
Intercontinental struggles of a man facing a man, but you’ve not been blessed. You have invested.

Investor in steel, investor in war, investor in industry
Investor in slavery, investor in misery.
Body parts in miasma. Crop circles in sky scrapers.
The modern man fueled by pornography and currency papers.

What was this once?
Look at your garden.

You’ve built ruins on top of ruins on top of foundations crafted from fiction,
And as the human inside you dies, your neighbor becomes your victim.
We’ve dried ourselves out, we travel like ghosts as the ratings climb up the chart.
We’ve let the numbers inside our head replace the words inside our hearts.

Write it in the stars.
Our tale of discount prices and living between your thighs.
Saving you the discomfort of meeting your partner’s eyes.
Millions and millions will remember your name.

I’ve read it in the stars. And I’ve seen the fate of your fleshy, meaty hides.
I have waited for the trumpet's song to sound.
Dollars set on the market as you bore into the ground.
Hiding behind the bodies of subordinates you’ve found.
Talking in circles will not get you closer to heaven.
This is my vow.

• Punk
• experimental
• hardcore
• metal
• speedpunk
• thrash
• Des Moines