Redacted Paradise Paradigms - Pt. 2 Remembrance
Lyrics
Intro
(Heavy Hemi-Sync Wake-Up)
(Continuous 3.9Hz Delta pulse)
(Spacious tape echo / Distant water drop percussion)
Open the hidden ledger,
Unseal the iron drawer.
Exposing the trauma market,
They built beneath the floor.
They thought the code was buried,
Where nobody could trace.
But the sovereign bloodline,
Is unmasking their face.
Verse 1
[Vocal Style: Gritty trip-hop flow with a raw, smoky, isolated delivery]
Taking our babies,
beneath land of the free.
Under polished flags,
and a counterfeit sea.
Bohemian Grove hags,
hiding secrets in the dark.
Every little cradle rocked,
by a sick hidden hand.
Every tear like rust,
in the broken promises land.
I see towers that feed,
on silent cries.
See the gold in the pupils,
of the new scribes.
Seven hollow chambers,
echoing like a Russian bell.
Anunnaki leaders hiding,
in a night-light hotel.
I bet night remembers,
what daylight won't tell.
Verse 2
[Vocal Style: Low register, cold, fiercely clinical and observant rasp]
The island architectures,
The corporate politician deals.
Feeding on the loosh-waves,
That the innocent field.
They classified the dossiers,
They locked the courtroom gates.
Using trauma experiments,
To steer our timeline fates.
But the Epstein paradox,
Is leaking through the grid.
We are matching the frequencies,
Of everything they did.
The child we were protecting,
Is stepping out of the maze.
Shattering the glass ceiling,
Of the shadow-earth haze.
Bridge
[Vocal Style: Trance-like, suspended out-of-body delivery over liquid synth pads]
So we gather like thunder,
under poisoned skies.
With truth in our throats,
lasers in our third eyes.
If they cut out music,
we can learn to hum.
If they steal our dawn,
we will ride through the sun.
The guitar bends,
like a rainbow body prayer.
Spinning black drones,
through the electric air.
Every wound becomes,
a salty key.
Every scar transmuted,
into true alchemy.
A quick jump down rabbit holes,
to build back the memory.
Let broken saints,
and starseed initiates,
Reclaim the stolen souls.
Climax
[Vocal Style: Soaring brave power with extreme raw vocal grit / Maximum emotional release]
(Dynamic Shift: Encompassing 808 sub-bass pressure drops hard into the gut)
I am a wreck,
to be reckoned with tall.
Standing fierce,
facing Moloch and Ba'al.
Still sinking in the abyss,
and the truth of it all.
Saving my soul,
from the angelic fall.
Stepping out into,
the devilish hall.
Of this manufactured prison yard.
And the stand-in Archon cast,
eating our emotion waves fast.
Facing each viperous monster,
right in its prime.
A new researcher,
uncovering the crime.
On a Dark Matter field,
where the truth is revealed.
The incestral bloodlines,
cannot cross this shield!
Outro
[Vocal Style: Sleepy breathy close-mic whisper fading into trailing echoes]
(Dynamic Shift: Full band drops into a beautiful slap-bass and earthquake drum breakdown)
Nephilim and Fallen angels,
and their fucked up angles.
Rusty broken chains lifted,
ancient wisdom re-gifted.
Through the dark void of the screen,
harsh grey haze and fever-dreams.
Fading out the static,
we are still, we are here.
We listen close,
though dimensionally unclear.
We are more than their busted toys,
that they rip apart to fulfill false ploys.
Giving the littles away for sacrifice,
built on ancient erasures and bogus lies.
A labyrinth of false parables,
in complete disguise.
While suppressing,
stolen little voices
left behind.
Just nasty snakes,
shitting golden acid
until I'm blind.
Working us to a recycled death,
for the taxpayer's last breath.
White House disclosures,
sub-par at best.
This timeline of linear time,
is the ultimate test.
Threats shutting down,
every patent for free energy.
Quick erasures of all mystics,
and esoteric history.
Deceitful False Kings,
secretly slave profiting.
And the tag-team champions,
the left and right wings.
With only Thirteen Bloodlines,
controlling the grids and minds.
(Wavy, slappy bass solo and dream-synth whammies pan 360° before fading out)
(Faint arpeggio rolls into absolute silence)