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On The Aftertaste

by Apogee

on On The Aftertaste (2001)

It's six o'clock in metropolis - the rising flood
the night cooled stream receives new power from the mills of time
in never ending corridors - the neon lights
immersing the awaking world in artificial light
Digressing thoughts will search for hold in the final hour
the dying seconds' indefiniteness which still remains
keeps lingering elusively and fading in a moments glimpse
(a worm is picking my bones)

driven by machinery of the automate society
which sets dynamically it's immanent law
The question about the sense of all is answered by a counterquestion
the anxioms of a world - unshakable their might
Driven by machinery of the automate society
which sets dynamically the law to obey by the minds of it's parcells

The whole world shall share in with the fruits of the tempting gift of knowledge
of promising blessings we are told - celebrated by a triple hooray
I've been told - go and get a piece of your own
Nicely presented for us all by the ubiquituous source
flooding into our living room - our radiation prayer

Streaming through the ether - an inaudible refrain
endless information patterns - and no way to restrain
all redundant - no selection - in reception overhaste
we manure the tree of knowledge - to smell the ever stranger aftertaste

Well tied up our gift arrives in the demanding here and now
it came just in time - our magic shrine
we've all been waiting for what it has to offer
Donated generously by our unselfish benefactor
smiling down upon our heads from the land of cockaigne
we've all been waiting for what it has to offer
(waiting for the big surprise)

Now we've got what we searched for - but it's not what we need
the gleaming - the gloss of its wrapping - turned out to be - a cheap imitation
Filled up to the edge with cultural redundancy
stale is the taste of its contents - spiced only by artificial flavouring

Then disillusion is creeping in - but liberating mind and soul
simultaneously I see
The greaming fascade is peeling off - reveals a view of seldom grace
to all the visions far bejond
And suddenly I've got the time - I thought was missing in the line
for looking sharper and inside - to go and see what I can find
And suddenly I recognize - meanings hidden in between the lines
charming attraction and grace - an unexpected richness and an overwhelming space
into this world of my own - I feel I'm gently drawn
joining a glimpse of light into the dawn
Lost any sense of time - did I deviate too far from any of my kind
is there a narrow way with steeply falling slopes on both sides of the cutting wedge
into this world of my own - I feel I'm gently drawn
now I suspect I am lost in a roses thorns

And there again standing beside it - the tumbling waters of the waves
some hand did grab me out of nowhere and woke me up ungently
and I'm taking place inside the stream - entry
Some hours for regeneration - out of the mazes of my brain
to get some outside information - I wonder how much I can take
and I'm taking place inside the stream - entry