Wednesday, July 31, 2013

A.M.O.E. Lyrics

Here are all of the lyrics for the album
A Maze Of Evenings


She lets down her hair and it's black as the basement of Hell.
And we go arm in arm in the next life, we're the next ones.
The love is tired, heavy & begging for rest.
But if I won't tell will you not tell?
Hedonist, Heavenly body of law.
In your thighs I'm a burning animal.
Straighten out the rivers & bind them all into a braid.
My true love's true legs are finally opening up.

The body is a miracle, put me back to sleep in a womb.
Good little bedroom, be my cocoon.
Delirious, delirious hysterical man.
This fevered pelvis, asking much, begs demands.
Inamorata, erotica's aura, oh Eros, erotic Aurora.
The thirst to whom I am slaved, big like a mountain.
Sit me at a mirror, tell me things I already know.
I'm not at peace. This is no home.


Such visions I've seen with shut eyes.
Must believe in the place that you've woke in.
Lidded eyes witness reticent events.

Teething my grind is confusing.
This somnambulist's mind is exhausting.
Who is the master in this house of my making?
Downside up, left side right.

Giver & Receiver

Only the pure can see the Holy grail.
And the grace begged, wasted if withheld from the unwell.
The unwell lift the window.
Sorcerer, speak the Secret Lexicon out loud.

Unveiler, Revealer.
Sisters, brothers.
Giver & Receiver.

The old days. Penance, fire & brimstone.
If the end time is our time after all.

Angels come dancing down.
Days of Heaven.
Silent night, Holy night.

The ecstasy's real.

The Wheel

The Moon is high.
The hour is late; it's Night.
If the bells ring, everything's fine.
But oh, such lonesome thoughts make lonely souls.
For all that we know, the powers that be shake and groan.
No well will clean the hand of Man.
So grief like a citadel stands.
And what is it that compels the foolish heart?
What feeds the hope?
Lend us sympathies. Bend the knees for us.
And around we go. Pain is the wheel we all will turn around.
Sleep of the just, pure of the heart.
Reveal us some truth that we can believe.

The nervous.
The wringing hands.
This body that needs so much.
And should love recoil or feel so bad, is it true?
Who knows these things?

Man's will grows tired.
The hour is come & gone.
All under the Moon.
Love is a wheel and peace is a wheel, turning.

The Curator

The twin ravens of Odin.
The wrong Magick performed.
Insane rhythms unroll a stairway down to Hell.

The mysteries sing to me in equivocal languages I cannot or won't understand.
Confusion will be my epitaph, of course.
So, the riddle is posed.
The question mark.
Caveats, caveats are groaned.
The whole of the law.
The curated will.
In theory and practice, order is unfamiliar.
The pleasure is mine.
All mine.
But chaos reigns.
And now I am sick.
Sick as a dog.

Solar Plexus

Strip the motive nude.
Ask the Father how to.
How does one accept such truths, such real worlds.
Fall on your knees if there is a meaning.
The Solar Plexus raves.
Now let me convince you.
It's strange. So strange.

Those who've seldom begged, find their sweet salvation.
How does one resist?
Avarice, vice ruled soul.
Lord, hear the moan.
Many headed God of war.
All is laid to rest by the Solar Plexus.
It is strange. So strange.

The Snakewife

In the ancient time, life derived from trash.
Nature's garbage bag- a generative seedbed.
Animalia, all taxonomies. 
All voracious, animals with human faces.
A maze of hostilities.
You must submit, civilization won't exist.
All the selfishness & danger on this planet.
Man crawled from the oceans in a panic.

The She-Bear.
The rat king.

Jaguar, stand up and talk!
Have you known the Antichrist in a deep sleep?
A deep sleep?

The Snakewife.
The wife.


Here in Slowland, we don't do much.
It seems too much being done is no good.
Here in Slowland, we slow people know where we stand.

Where's it lead, all this begging to please?
Yes, a maze of sick hearts to console.
When you go, go in a good way to a better place.
Don't be ashamed of Grace.
Go in a good way.

Draw Me Down The Moon

Take what little love comes
and be deserving.
And when it's not enough, be servile.

The needle's eye shrinks things strangeways.
Ash to dust. It's all considered.

Draw me down the moon, love.
Take the risk.
And what it's not enough of, we must submit.

Inner Female

There's no need for a self in utero.
No sex. A body blank as snow.
The first girl had five hearts on each hand.
The ideal, hard pressed to be.

If you dream me, I dream you.
Speak my name, you know me.

Female. Thee inner female at all cores.
When I am her, who am I?

Lay near now, let's make vows.
True love waits for sundown.

In the Motherland, no people exist.
All sole & vague.
So lovely this way.
We've agreed.