She Has A Name Learn the system Hate the teachers Preach to the preachers Resurrect the silence Accept Defect Build two hundred mirrors and reflect Upon the crimes we create Eat the putrid Enter the lucid Become gravity Pull the world down Power the piston Fuck the system Crawl Run Speak Breathe Divert the current Kill the ignorant We’re far too young To be human Dissolve sensitivity Destroy the liability Engineer the universe She has a name. -Emile

Synthesis Distortion walks thick through human heads Building fake and farfetched aspirations We create our own purposes And disease our imaginations. Every day we look Through simulated eyes Distinct markings on our graves Standing under projected skies. We are designed Designed to hide And through my acrylic veins Runs suicide. We’ll sit quite comfortably And pretend to breathe Whilst your synthetic face Haunts my synthetic memories. -Emile

Proud To Be Killers We live in a world where we get information From hideously corrupt news organisations With every word on every page Slowly driving the planet insane. Ruled by new age propaganda Even the whistleblowers are going under Whilst they spread the truth about the lies The lies soon become the truth. You’re all ignorant selfish fucks You can’t decide who earns the bucks Your selective racism is painful to hear. And I’ll sit back as you try to justify Sending innocent men out to die Choking on gas out on the front line Making us proud to be killers. Kill all the children Read their names aloud Plant grass over their graves God, your parents must be so proud. Open your mouths as well as your eyes Clear your head, survey the skies Fall in love a thousand times Make yourself proud to be a murderer. Yet we still stand back, rigid and stubborn Put bullets through each one of our brains And we’ll all commit suicide. Then we can join them on the front line Making us proud to be slaughterers. -Emile

Faces Look at them and learn to feel. Can you feel their futures dwindling? Spiralling? Falling? Faces familiar to my psyche suddenly seem so foreign My eyes shape their futures. What are they? Beautiful? Repulsive? Bodies move towards me in a drunken fashion Liquor poisons their bloodstream Their hearts pump toxins around their bodies To their limbs Their eyes Their brains Take away their strengths Turn their lips to stone Shove coldness down their throats Take away their faces. -Emile

Bones Like Paper Planes Walk her into the room Shackle her wrists in old iron chains Cover her head in water Tear off her clothes Kneel her before the alter Force her to pray To an imaginary conscience Mention not her name But her race Her religion And her family crumbles I hear Tiananmen Square Is kind of quiet these days Push drugs into her veins Pull the truth out of her lungs She catches a glimpse Of an eagle Through the stained glass windows A tear rips through her left eye And one hundred and eighty seven soldiers Salute to their country heartlessly Bones like paper planes Skulls containing beautiful brains All go to waste When mushroom clouds engulf cities Roughly count the bodies Build a stone pillar Carve their names Because somehow that helps Even stone crumbles. -Emile