Dead To All Sensory Perception

by Barren Oak

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released March 21, 2013

Steve - drums
Andrew - 5 string bass
Alx - 7 string bass & vocals

Recorded & produced by John Zani



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Barren Oak Boston, Massachusetts

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Track Name: Blissful Self Violence
Abandoned the man who I was
the future form cannot be conceived
the existence I lead, lifeless purgatory.

Blissful self violence is my wretched legacy.

Infinite equations of futile connections
coronal sunbeams pierce my mind
two parts of a whole; a torturous fracture
joined by a charge; design of a radiant mind.

The fire that burns outlined abstractions
faces of light forever burned
to the back of my eyes.
Face down you recognize
the fleeting chance to dream.

Only this fatal dose and half-written letter remain,
the punchline to my last joke told with a shuffling thud.
Tasting the end of forever
the answer to my problem is a dropping pulse.

Consumed in disappointment,
chagrin befell my eyes.
wandering in lust wearing tattered clothes
violently shaking in spiritual seizure.
Apathy is my companion
in this constant state of suspension
A lifeless retreat, in a cave of despair.
I found words of peace, in this wonderful stillness.
Track Name: Life Throes
Rivers. Fading. Hall of undone words.
Slow eyes. Life throes. Beckoning. Lonely heartbeat.

Final moments, blistering truths.
Seeing the reddening hue of my destiny
The pain is a fond farewell to conscience
and moral shackles.

No blocks remain to rebuild this life
Leaving this world to never start again.
The whole is equal to the sum of devotion
dead to all sensory perception.

Memories of virtue have burned in the ether.
Sentinel thoughts of contrition beneath.
Can you sleep? Puritanical by day,
and decadent by night.

I've come to be
the sun and the moon.
visions of astral bodies floating,
the silent decay of autumn leaves in June.

Life is just a stifled mirage
You were born against your own free will.
Life is just a stifled mirage
You were born just to die.
Track Name: Glass Farm
The fall of man approaches,
blithe and listless I feel.
the accepted view of beauty;
antithesis of unique.
The freeing release of death nears
I promised I’d go on,
but that was before this loss.

Я сейчас слабой и расслабленой
У меня больше нет дыхания
нет больше жизни

We scoff at the unrealized dreams of our ancestors.
belabored hearts swim in a scrying pool,
empty promises of graceful fulfillment
if you endure the subjection.

Carry your bones, through to the glass farm.
feelingless and nothing else.
the pleasant aroma, of generators
melting of souls to replant life.