The Church - Shriek Voices lyrics

There might as well not be
A Silence, a Machine, an underground
I feel as if I have emerged from a bad dream
Into the real world
It does not seem possible
That one person should
Be able to lead two such lives

Personal responsibility and is
As irresponsible
As those religions that attribute
Deeds to the sun, moon, or
Sea we are, ultimately
Responsible for our own
Actions, our own history
And our own happiness i do not refute
Any claim that the gray caps
Are vilе and degeneratе creatures
Or that they have not influenced our city
In a negative way but they have
Not done so with intent their
Story is not that
Of an overarching conspiracy, of
Careful control over centuries
But instead the pitiful tale of a
Subjugated race that acts with
The same instinct and lack of planning as any
Of the lower animals for us to
Confer intent upon them or to seek intent
From them turns us into victims
Unable to fashion our own destinies
I reject such crackpot ideology

One of the strangest things about the war for
Me was the calm in the midst
Of the violence that sometimes
Came over people
A state of grace, or denial
Perhaps i can remember watching from the
End of a street as
A fungal bomb blew up a few blocks away it
Was one of those hideous creations that
Dissolving into a fine purple mist
Travels forward from the impetus of the
Blast and enters the lungs of
Anyone in it's path
Making them brittle statues that
Disintegrate at the slightest
Touch or breath of wind i
Ducked into a side alley
Even though I was already immune

As people ran by, screaming there
Was no help for them, no help I could give
Across the street, though
I saw a man in a long overcoat
Standing calmly by a lamppost he had
On thick glasses and he had
Covered his nose and
Mouth with a mask of cloth as the
Mist washed over him, bringing
With it the usual
If incongruous, smell of limes and lemons
He did not panic he just stood there