Archbishop Jason Polland - "The Thesis Of Inhumanity"
(BNW 021 - 2008)

Act I / Act II / Intermission / Act III

Download the complete album in 320 kbps MP3 format:
The Thesis Of Inhumanity (ZIP FILE)


When will be spoken the final word of my horrid internal dialogue?
Sweetly exhaled in a soft crimson mist
I was prepared for the most inhuman of destinies
Unexpectedly resurrected from my infinite spiral
I sit, confused, poised on the edge
Between light and familiarity
Between life and my chosen path

The stream of poison flows gently through my beautiful topiary
Each day I attend to the delicate shapes
While the roots sip lightly from the trickling venom
Someday, when I am gone, and my trees lose their form
Strangers will use them for fuel
The green and purple flames will be accompanied by thick, acrid smoke
Paralysis from inhalation - death from beauty - legacy from the grave

You know I've killed myself a thousand times before
I've floated to the surface of a thousand shores
Time is an addiction, abandoned long ago
I skip forever bloody through the pristine snow
Ask me where I've been and I will answer with a grin
I've walked along the edge for so long, I cannot remember which side I was on!

I loved her but she's gone
Soon I will be gone too

My love is a ghost of glass
Easily shattered
If perchance you break me
Shards will cut you deeply
Tears of blood run down our face
Tears of blood run down your arms
Tears of blood run down our face
Until the tears run dry... and so will I

I am served equally well by Order and Chaos
When Order fails, Chaos saves me
When Chaos fails, Order saves me
May I finally be excused from the pain that surrounds me?
I'm laughing, I'm giggling, at the horror of being alive

Strolling past the rows of carnivorous plants, I think of our love
Strolling past the rows of hemlock, I think of making tea
Callous laughter fills my ears
Viscous mucus fills my tears
Floating gently down the river, slipping quietly over the falls
As I am dashed against the rocks, I think of our love
"Are you the Fifth Lake?"
"I am the Sixth Lake"
"The Sixth?!"
Watching my final companion: tentacles squeeze, beak slices flesh

Resurrecting ancient Gods
Visiting the calcitrant Lakes
Pitcher Plants will spill their blood
Octopi will ooze commands
Arcane guards reactivated to control the deep
* I Am Just A Thing *
Bruises from suction-cups, tentacles that squeeze ever-tighter
Scars from serrated beaks, bulbous black orbs that see your soul
Fleshy chunks freshly bitten, gangrene gobbled greedily
Black Flame sparkles in Its eyes
Reaching for my Obsidian blade, tentacles lash out, restraining my wrist
Twisting to rip flesh and crack bone
I am pulled further
My last breath forcibly exhaled by constricting coils crushing my chest
My lips cannot contain the vacuum in my lungs
Soon the pressure outside my body and inside my body will be equal

In my dream, I bathed in cloudy water; dead, winged insects clung to my skin
Outside: barren, rocky plains expanded into darkness
An immense humanoid being with rock-textured skin
Crawled from a pit and bounded away like a child

Slices strewn about the ocean's floor
Inky black filth obscures my final inhalation
As my four awkward limbs are torn asunder by eight nimble, muscular limbs
And my final heartbeat is consumed by a beak that plunges directly into my chest
My final regret, as my vision bleeds away:
Simply that I forgot the Platypus when I needed him most!

I have crossed the boundary
I am no longer bound
It is not what I expected
This is not what I expected
Peeling the skin away from my arm, I can't help my whimsical laugh
Who would have guessed?
Who could have guessed?
Eyes no longer limited by light see the inexorably blasphemous night
Sunlight will not keep us safe


Extracting the blade from my heart, I watch as their faces fall pale
Who would have guessed, who could have guessed?
I have crossed the boundary, I am no longer bound
For even if I spill my own blood, I will not be saved

Bleeding as I gaze deep within your eyes
Your inky black eyes
The pain I am feeling now is nothing compared to the pain I will feel
As the blood is drawn, the transaction is complete
Exhumed for the last time
As the cold seeps in, my breath becomes discreet
Exhumed for the last time
Falling into the depths of your fiery black eyes
Consumed whole by searing Black Flame Eyes
As I tumble my descent, I do not voice my discontent
One eye reveals the hideous crustaceous race
Who one day shall rise from the mud of our blood to take our place
When the continents reunite, the Moon will plummet from the sky
The Sun is dead, the planet is cold
A broken figure sits alone
I am not that man
I cannot be that man
I will not... no... no! Please, no!

With strings through my limbs, and tears in my heart
I recite the Dance of Illusions
A part of nothing, I belong to my fantasies
I enact the Dance of Illusions
The shards of my hopes and dreams, clutched tightly in bleeding hands
As I sway to the Dance of Illusions
Purity can be found in delusion
To attain perfection, you must slip away
I dangle and twist gently to the Dance of Illusions

Singing the praises of life is fine, if you're alive
I want to go down in history, I want to go down in flames
More ill-defined than ever before
The Gods have driven a stake through my head
The Museum of Dolls in my heart, I am as hollow as they
The illusion of leisure will destroy me--- abate, most insidious of fiends!
Why wear the mask of preservation with a skullful of putrification?
"The act itself is not nearly as pleasing as the knowledge that it is wrong...!"

The jig is up
I must away
The acoustics of my cranium interminably echo every last regret of the past four-hundred years
From what tainted well springs forth this melancholy?
Whence are delivered these tidings of dark contemplation?
Forthwith, I must dust my moldy exterior and cobwebbed interior
To allay the inexorable decrepitation of my crumbling heart
And if my remedy is merely a ruse
At least my inconsolable soul retains the minor satisfaction of knowing
I will be one with the dirt soon enough
Or if I am lucky, even sooner

I must delve into research concerning my personal eschatology

Octopus has given me so many choices
Eight different variations straight to ruination
So many ways to fail miserably
Can anyone help me?
The Platypus helps those who help themselves to escape
This broken, battered shell surrounds my sad and shattered soul
This physical prison has failed me
I need a new doll for my soul to hide inside
A beautiful new doll...!

No, I don't think I will leave my tomb today
I can hear the hordes stomping around up there and I would not like to join them
It's much safer in the tranquility of interment
And though I may venture out in my own inconspicuous way, it won't be today
I was never one of them and they drove me here and that's fine by me
No, please don't exhume me, I appreciate the offer, but I'm happy in my misery
(...betwixt the Black and White Flames...)

My heart surges each time I glimpse the loveliest of Dolls
With delicate, loving gestures, the Dolls sweetly reassemble the shattered pieces of my soul

Inert, inanimate, torpid, dormant, devoid, frozen...
Fade away, reality
I am just a memory
The tides of time have swept over me
Frozen, muddy, suspended in the glacier of an icy will
Sedentary within the sediment
Stagnant, inert, perpetual immobility
The carceral torpidity of my consciousness begets inanimate wishes never to be granted

Perpetual-decrepitation machine
No third chances
Send back to do it right
The human escape hatch - mankind's greatest secret
I lay bleeding by the Lake
The water wants my blood, and the Platypus is love
The knowledge that I am not a monster is no more comforting than the delusion that I am

Frozen in the void, I remember
And they live again
I am all that's left
But I remember, and they live again
Immortality is the infinite archive
Infinity is the loneliest number

This hideous thing called "life" distracts me further from my undeniable truths
Until I am lost in the Sea of Denial... no!
I can no longer mask my desires for the most delicate ones
Who haunt my dreams, who taunt my waking hours with their perfection
Perfection which quickens my twisted heart
Perfection which I shall never attain in this life

Allure of the Ice Doll
Frozen forever, unending beauty, unceasing perfection

No worries in the stale waters of futility
Inoculated with the illness of complacency

Even when I live, I grow bored, restless, melancholy
I cannot fool myself for long
But perhaps it works, for a little while...
I love them all
I live a life with them
It is only a memory
But for an instant, it feels real
And they live again...!

I am the Ice Doll
Ice-mind, ice-life, ice-will
Time freezes, existence drags on and on
My futility will not abate; shall I self-terminate?
Life is a constant struggle to the death... just as it should be!
Motion equals life, inactivity is death
Well, the water can have my blood, because I'll make more
I live again... I'll live again!
The Perpetual-Emotion Machine, futility of perpetuation
I'll live again!
Peripheral movement
The tiniest ripple
A glimpse of brown fur and a grey bill
Eyes wise beyond their aeons
...The Platypus!
He speaks a single word:

The Cold Star which once burned so brightly has died
Now absorbing energy, unable to radiate
Silently growing monstrous

All Materials Copyright 1995-2010 Jason Polland.

Back to the Index