The Wanderer
Kid A
"the heretical synthesis"
ashes like stains
streaming down from trees,
in the liquid grins
of god-less decrees
stabbing at the plankton
as their boat skims the seas
setting them afloat
to death drowning pleas
they split you like wood
and admire how you sink and swim
as they rape you with wisdom
of knowing your fate is their whim
---> sorry, wish I could do more with this, maybe/hopefully i will eventually... but it's not the point, I wanted to say that witch hunts need to stop, they've been manifested in so many ways throughout time and they are still playing out
just think about it, please
thanks...
-----------
...the innocent who were to die, and the guilty who were to grow old in long remorse--tracing their every step... I plunged into my imagination for a blacker horror, and a deeper woe, and pictured the scaffold----- And now the past had done all it could.... Yet ere we left the hill, we could not regret, that there is nothing on its barren summit, no relic of old, nor lettered stone of later days, to assist the imagination in appealing to the heart. We build the memorial column on the height which our fathers made sacred with their blood, poured out in a holy cause. And here in dark, funereal stone, should rise another monument, sadly commemorative of the errors of an earlier race, and not to be cast down, while the human heart has one infirmity that may result in crime.
-Nathaniel Hawthorne, "Alice Doane's Appeal"
ashes like stains
streaming down from trees,
in the liquid grins
of god-less decrees
stabbing at the plankton
as their boat skims the seas
setting them afloat
to death drowning pleas
they split you like wood
and admire how you sink and swim
as they rape you with wisdom
of knowing your fate is their whim
---> sorry, wish I could do more with this, maybe/hopefully i will eventually... but it's not the point, I wanted to say that witch hunts need to stop, they've been manifested in so many ways throughout time and they are still playing out
just think about it, please
thanks...
-----------
...the innocent who were to die, and the guilty who were to grow old in long remorse--tracing their every step... I plunged into my imagination for a blacker horror, and a deeper woe, and pictured the scaffold----- And now the past had done all it could.... Yet ere we left the hill, we could not regret, that there is nothing on its barren summit, no relic of old, nor lettered stone of later days, to assist the imagination in appealing to the heart. We build the memorial column on the height which our fathers made sacred with their blood, poured out in a holy cause. And here in dark, funereal stone, should rise another monument, sadly commemorative of the errors of an earlier race, and not to be cast down, while the human heart has one infirmity that may result in crime.
-Nathaniel Hawthorne, "Alice Doane's Appeal"
