stream this song | back to album page | back to homepage | buy this album on itunes | watch the ASL video! Death Track 1 from "My God!" by proGrammar Death! Only ever two steps behind, in step with Time; his breath on your spine. His sickle's shine blinding, casting a crescent-shaped shadow over your sunny meadow. Don't allow today to go to your head bro, sis. Notice! Escape from His fate's hopeless! Envelop yourself in the now, trust me, s'the only relief possible to assuage the grief of your fossilized state. Thanatos is hostile to your best-laid plots... excepting, of course, the one that holds your headstone (ha-ha.) Your headboard at night saturated with your life's dreams. Your wife screams; night screens the dismal outcome of your pipe dreams. Time takes flight, alights on your corpse with bone-white fiends; minions doing Death's bidding. All Life's the lord's dominion. Your indignation the least important of your opinions, for there's just no winning. The underpinning of human urgency's emergencies never-ending. Sending souls to the cosmos, to add to the constellations. Jupiter and Venus, pleasantly delighted by your contribution; another pinprick of light too faint to reach mother Gaia; a beacon's keening signal, set adrift in the lonesome blackness. You ask, "Does the fact of this subtract from life's luster?" "Alack," I ask, "is joy of life enhanced or hurt by lack of bluster?" Attacks we must muster in the face of the facts of finitude. "Today's the Day I Die" helped I to find a fine attitude, dude. Consider Hamlet holding your skull, an open bowl, full to overflowing with opiated hope with no hope of control. Feel the pull of the undertow as under we must go the toe of mother Hera and father Zeus, for there's just no use. As balls of clay we were made to survive only a day + a night; 'ts'only right. Strive to survive this lonely fight. Dusty bones rattle as we are called like cattle to the slaughter. Come son, mother, father and daughter and all others; all brothers + sisters in this destiny. Death's to be our final meeting-place. Greeting our face in the mirror's a rictus sneer; depicted as fear by the cowardly. Hourly returned to our Creator, encircling all like the Equator. Well, are we humans, or mice like Die Flater caught in an all-consuming fire? We're all assuming desire's a driving force but, of course, that's the cart before the horse. Departing for the far coast of Styx, preferring a dip in Lethe to escape the effects of human happenings. Covering over our eyes like Egyptian coins and a death mask. In Death's grasp, enwrapped in gauze; guts flushed with formaldehyde. Eyelids sewn shut, no more the light of skies. No... now, the only shining's the ever after. Hope to Heaven your soul's not trapped like a balloon in the rafters. Metempsychosis turns this most unfortunate prognosis/turn of events into a prevention of your ascension to the Holy Ghost. It's essentially an opportunity to re-do your sloppy handiwork, jerk... stream this song | back to album page | back to homepage | buy this album on itunes | watch the ASL video!