"All that you touch you change All that you change changes you God is change" Octavia Butler Earthseed student Elusive knowledge Knowledge the journey Momento mori I must accept what's inevitable Not yet Not yet I feel foreign, may be my nature Forest Metaphor for a forewarning When the storm's forming Sure enough losin' my coordinates Torn up roots of my story Would I die for it or forfeit it Is it my ordinance or is All of this more or less a performance Informant as dormant as doormats Seems that we can't afford asking anymore Yet any less is boring Needless to say I keep recordin' it Seeds sowed we don't reap all of 'em Fortunate the bar above a modicum We know not when the harvest come Rule is you'll leave it to the arbiters Pawns lined up like dominoes Tumble like laundered clothes Stomach in a knot, no, not no nautical I don't know why no more (Why) Evergreen leaves don't fall in Fall when all others long goners But every epoch is a departure And God alone knows what's comin' Tree branches a secant to the circle of life I could see taking shortcuts, sure, but my circle is tight Somebody give me a word of advice No shortage of lies Was I born or comprised Product of soil or soylent Silence is an option Less and less the more that I find I don't know where I am or to begin (I don't know who, I don't know where, I don't know how) I don't know why I am who I am (Why) I fell for it, followed my nurture Formless Molding my mental discordance More every morning Sure enough losin' assurance In what I thought was my story Should I fight for or abhor it Did I write this or absorb it All of our common sense is imported Coordinates more than a point on a map We feasibly can't afford asking What that means till the next EP I'll just say I'll be reporting it Proletariat or a laureate? What I am all depends what you observe No one hidin' from the eye of Sauron Why I codify a message in the obscure Contours and the corridors of my cortex vex minotaurs It's a Mordor-esqe fortress, so a tour mean a war vet Vet the tourists at the door with a warning Enter at your own risk The truth too morbid for most Most choose the illusion Worship the throne as the ultimate goal But it's only an ornament owned By the corporate board (Bored board) You know what that makes us right Pawns or a respawned ghost in the shell I was born in a hoax, and I woke With a thorn in my throat as I tell you All they sell you's your own soul I do not know who I am ("All that you touch changes you") I do not know why I can't Why