The Art of Losing

by Levitys Law

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03:22

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A synopsis of life wrapped in a dream

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released March 7, 2013

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Levitys Law Grand Rapids, Michigan

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Track Name: My Affliction
Licked Tables, My Affirmation
You yield the promise and I soak in it
You call on rapture, your clad is stupor
With a clan of herding nostrils overt
Peripheral passion, pacification
Come down and you’ll be

Dry and dim, bracing for half life
scrying when you’ll have your next sip
You’ve preached so long
My dime my affliction

Fluid nausea my malady
You yield the promise and you piss on it
You stall with laughter, your drenched in torpor
A testament holding a crude bore
Fortunes followed far from fables
Come dawn and you’ll be

Dry and dim, bracing for half life
Scrying when you’ll take your next hit
You’ve preached so long
My dime my affliction

Consequently consequence brings me
To my knees and you owe to me
Its taking me over
Its taking me over
A rancid love affair

Dry and dim, bracing for half life
Scrying when we’ll have our next taste
You’ve preached so long
My dime my affliction

Oh Well

Consequently life’s so dolose
Track Name: Finding Panacea
It’s beautiful, rhythmic shifts made focal points.
It’s beautiful, creaking tongue and groove joints.
Inhailing fog in splitting streams,
fixed upon a queen.

It’s beautiful, entangled in a strangers limbs.
It’s beautiful, hormones laced in vigor and vim.
Aroused by pillows muffled screams,
a stitch to sew the dream.

Stay, slip the mundane.
Stay, don’t become your on bane.
Practice empathy,
see the beauty.

It’s ugly, adolescents begging for your drool.
It’s ugly, lacking morals fall to gag rule.
Impending cries for perilous acts.
A question of fact.

Stay, slip the mundane.
Stay, don’t
become your on bane.
Practice empathy,
preference sympathy.

I’m dealing in tongues and souls,
what a miserable way to go,
and I’ve got nothing to show for it.

Here I sit on cumulonimbus,
no regret, no forgiveness.
Why don’t you join us?
Track Name: Princess of Prices
Possession, obsession it’s all a fever of the righteous,
The rules of acquisition.
Necessity and luxury, can you define them for me?
Can your pseudo-idol?
 
Eyelids to eyebrows at narcissism in a gown
and the spoon is never far from her mouth.
Rinse off the avarice my princess of prices.
A proffered onion meets only glances.
 
What can you buy, can you afford me?
A tipped brim and sigh. Will you ignore me?
 
Your cupidity binging and hoarding are flowering.
Well obedience can’t dwandle.
A pernicious purloining from the material thing,
the theft of depth in you to shallow you.
 
What can you buy, can you afford me?
A tipped brim and sigh.  Will you ignore me?
 
Possession, obsession it’s all a fever of the righteous,
the rules of acquisition
Necessity and luxury can you define them for me,
can your…. Can you?
Track Name: Crown of Virtues
Down in the belly of the bellicose,
being digested while comatose.
Maybe I shouldn’t acquiesce,
be taciturn and obsequious.

Pillars and pedestals that are lacking prowess.
So much testosterone it frustrates progress.
And they’re breeding mobs like locusts.

But I’m forged in, transfixed in pride.
Absorbed in pride.
Tetrad.

My voice is found in a crescendo.
Spread through a show.
My catharsis will be heard,
and mirrored in turn.

A silk semblance and smooth coiffure.
Wrapped around an unassured core.
Reiterating folklore
that looks mislead for the insecure.

All your perennial posturing
must be so exhausting
while you asperse my being.

But I’m forged in, transfixed in pride.
Enthralled in pride.
Tetrad.

My voice is found in a crescendo.
Spread through a show.
My catharsis will be heard,
and mirrored in turn.
Track Name: Black Sheep
Never lie.  Asphyxiate the hive.
Never lie? I’m a liar.
Through with victual from the crops of mothers.
Through with blather and abstract manners.
 
Pieces of it all will burrow in a crow.
Pieces of it all will learn to love.
 
Alas, my gods were born in vanity.
Woe is me.
Cloddish inference in sanity.
Woe is me.
 
Hardly holding bloods bond its bind.
You’re counting down my spine.
And one day you will find me prim in linen.
A Windsor tucked under my chin.
 
We’re rapt in cynical mire reflective of our intent.
We’re wrapped in a clinical fear.