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The Agonist - Prisoners cover art
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Prisoners

(2012)
TypeStudio Full-length
GenresMelodic Death Metal, Metalcore
LabelsCentury Media Records
Album rating :  85.3 / 100
Votes :  21
Lyrics > T > The Agonist Lyrics (46) >

Prisoners Lyrics

(11)
Submitted by level Besi Karat
1. You're Coming With Me (5:35)
International dreaming reveals a deceit less obvious.
It's the lairs who are punished but the liars speak the truth.
I will never know your intention but I'll make clear my own.
You are guilty by association and I'm taking your sentence on.

To forget is the greatest ardor, forgetting is the favorite cure.
There aren't many days left to sleep.
Suspicius bullets - silent guns.

Here's where the men wear pride outside and women smile through dragonflies.
You were supposed to wait for me, that's how I built this up to be.
I'm the kill the retriever coudn't find, the round that got away.
Just leave my corpse to feed the worms, I'll soon just dissipate.

I'm going straight to hell and you're coming with me!
Yesterday's air suffocates me.

See, I have this gift to give to you. Take it carefully, it's yours.
But if ever you should break it, please return it to the source.
It's a shame you've not still hungary - sugared hands surrounds the still. Exhibitionist intentions through the window carved in skin.
I'll shut up so you'll explain to me human sacrifice.
Subtle tears, I loved you too, your desperate hillsides, your forest of depression and your houses built on lies.

I'm going straight to hell and you're coming with me!
Yesterdays air suffocates me - I'll take your oxygen.
Equine corpses bored to death.
Purge the fetus like arguments.
Time's up, get on board, you're coming with me.

It's hard to watch you crumble, watch the flames lick your complexion bare, removing the pretense that you cared.
I see the woman facing away, I feel the distance in her gaze.
One day she will turn around and push me back so my past is erased.
Flying birds like kites, my eyes are so full of sun I don't know how I'll ever learn your language.
Only an insect forgets the earth when drawn into the sun.

My Panophobia is based on my education. Reality is what you non-belivers call religion.
You only cower faced with what you know to be the truth.
My faith is strong, can't break the bonds, despite the lack of proof.
You're just one more reason to burn this place down.
Plant your face in the ground. Put you back where you came from.
Enjoy the worms reclaiming your organs.
Majority always wins, I've chosen my weapons.
I'm devolving this place - you can't have slaughter without laughter.

I'm going straight to hell and you're coming with me!
Yesterdays air suffocates me - I'll take your oxygen.
Equine corpses bored to death.
Purge the fetus like arguments, how did we go from that to this?
Sure, I'm guilty. Still, you're coming with me!
2. The Escape (4:08)
Memory is fiction, so the past is your invention
Catch yourself, self-dissect, how youth outlives age
How beauty shames skill
Prayer is for dependents and wish is for the will
A struggle for independence, a harmless stage
Art gaining post-mortem fame

Oh Creatice!
Your vibrant portfolio has never shown as brightly
As your latest masterpiece
All efforts' fruition in such a wondrous offspring
How did you manage a piece so perfect?

Entrancing passers-by to lock eyes and gaze, hypnotized
Overcome with a need to outdo the last
A child born so dependent rebels so quickly once he has his footing
Forgets who and where raised him and how he came to be

But a growing pain cannot explain behavior of the like
A perfect child deserves the best
But at the cost of what else did you instill this need
To over-consume without regret?

Broken pencils, charred marble drafts
He leaves destruction in his path
Your one mistake, oh great Creatice
Was giving too large a brain

(This organ, like disease, can disseminate beyond your reach
You didn't predict this, a carnal rebellion in its wake)

Strike back with forces beyond his reach
That even six billion can't defeat
Go lock up the aggressor, quarantine before it's too late
Bred to lose sense of consequence
In his greed he exhausts your milk, your blood, your shelter...
Don't let him escape!

Memory is fiction, so the past is your invention
Catch yourself, self-dissect, how youth outlives age
How beauty shames skill
Prayer is for dependents and wish is for the will
A struggle for independence, a harmless stage
Art gaining post-mortem fame

Throw your blood upon his lands, your skin cracked and depleted
Suck the air out from his lungs, expose him fully, let him burn
Show him to appreciate, discipline the cruel ingrate
You still have the power to reshape - do not let this escalate

Vapors vanish in the night, statuesque guards seconds too late
What rebellion possessed thee?
A dangerous subterfuge, a lonely rampage, anxious fleet
Like limbs tumbling horizontally

Now it's too late - the child has escaped!
Indignant ties, parental constraints
A child protected sets self free
And the ingrate will lie in the bed he has made
As a self-imposed apocalypse finally sets You free
3. Predator and Prayer (5:04)
We hear you, we don't care
We hear you, we don't care
We hear you, we don't care

You sit and soak in your beliefs
You cling to ice and think
You'll float away to your demise
And won't regret a thing

Allow me to shatter your fantasy
Your childhood dream
I'll crush your reality
The gabled roofs make it easy

I know you aren't kidding
I can't help but find it fitting

We're the ones who hear your prayers
We won't answer, we don't care
So, let your demons in
This is where your life begins

I'm selfish and responsible. I want the credit and I'll take the blame.
Earth created man, man created God - I'm not passive enough to allow some invention to take it all.

I'm part of a macrocosm
That is the living Earth
And like a body or cell
It is my will to keep the Earth in health

We're the ones who hear your prayers
We won't answer, we don't care
So, let your demons in
This is how your life begins

How are you so gullible?
So easily swayed?
I just want to shake you
Break through your daze

Our brains aren't sophisticated enough to understand the complexity and wonder of Nature.
God is a man-made invention to allocate power and responsibility to a tacitile body.

We're the ones who hear your prayers
We won't answer, we don't care
So, let your demons in
This is when your life begins

Believers prefer to be right than correct
In an environment for change, turn left
Sight through mind is imagination
Hallucination mimics perception
Bridge the chasm between blindness and sight
The machinery of the brain generates the theater of the Mind

We hear you, we don't care
We hear you, we just don't care
4. Anxious Darwinians (5:23)
Halted embryogenesis at the birth of second thought, creating before acting to stay safelyat the start. Textbook nebulse authentical the World Order’s end. But we dictate through creation just how, where and when. The sound of self-severed limbs. Broken joints on cold steel links. Impossible havens harbor them. Damp floors carve swollen skin. The long-sought elusive passage keys! Where once was a door, now stands a wall. Concrete beds prevent digging deep. Leonine threats behind bamboo stalks.

And anxious Darwinians frantically self-analyse,
too ultimately aware to trust anyone or anything alive.
Toxic, parasitic ideas hijack our minds.
Mimetically commandeered to include the suicide.

The privacy of experience. The illusion of focus.
The future is anticipated memory. The virulence of idea.
Vanitas on aged pages, copper violin.
Incumbent phrenology to drain you of your doubt.
Don’t call my landscape a plane, you increate egoist!
You’re merely a hallucination of my own Atmas!
Volition decides the future as the authors all agree,
Impatiently arranging for evolution’s recrudescence. Visual receptors are undeniably unique in a closed Cartesian Theater, body anchored to the seat. Pressuposed conclusions, methodic doubt. An escaped res cogitans flees to an inter-subjective world. Passive beliefs bridge the chasm, mind pregnant at birth. The danger, dear empiritic is that to which Narcissus succumbed, and still do, some. Fountainshead, automatons. To subordinates genetic interest is ultimately human! Rampant self-awareness in your invisible Hands means everything is fickle, subject to your shape and shade. How will you, dear eremite program your semaphore? Self-preservation is subject to an emotional homunculus. And anxious Darwinians frantically self-analyse, too ultimately aware to include the suicide.
5. Panophobia (3:54)
Keep out the intruders! Put the drawbridge up!
The enemy ransacked what we had just rebuilt!
Now the garden lies in serene symmetry
And severe color theory.
Roots slowly poisoining
Through strategic seeds planted inside. We’re much safer self-preserved.
Let the Dead Sea rise.
No, the watch dogs aren’t robots.
They can’t defend against their lures.
Doors that weld shut behind you and books that fly like birds.
Crushed by backpacks filled with ammo, luggage carts distracted the defense.
And the troops sneak in undetected, charades begin, start the pretense. Obsessive thought in royal chambers invites Trojan warriors in. Little exceptions seem so harmless, little victories, little wins. And now why has the plan failed? We sit here aimless once again. With all units deployed fully, how is it we let him in? All the corporals agreed: zero-tolerance enforced. But as cold as doorknobs were I somehow still opened the doors. Each battle lost is a mile gained on the terminal timeline. We all fear the last few inches but they’re so far out, we’re blind. A dysfunctional team, we are, no one following the rules. Yes I’ll do my best to protect you but your disobedience intrudes. Skeletons escape the flesh like ants through tightly clenched fists. This time impeach the tyrant! What a contradictory statement – suicidal self-preservationist. Although logic understands, prison chambers still exist. Chambers East and West conspiring, neighbors North and South unite. With the four working against me I’m powerless and losing sight! This is a forced entry. This is algometry. This is panophobic. Immunity gets sick. This is a forced entry. This is algometry. This is panophobic. Taken down, brick by brick. This is a forced entry. This is algometry. This is panophobic. This is the last conflict.
6. Ideomotor (8:07)
We are but prisoners, of waterfalls.
We stand on broken ribs, faces to the glass we drown.
Heavy mileage on our minds. We wrap the Earth in cerebral folds.
And the corps we carry really is a weight we'd like to throw.
We love the strange new animals, we love the fearful plants.
And we all surrender, turpentine to rid us of our past.
You would walk the rotton hillside, you would taste the clouds bellow.
But the world you walk is running water through valleys in palms of hands.
We all know we will be respected by greed and death and loathed by clarity.
Jettisoned.
Emotions flood the banks. The valleys overflow.
If only memory served us better we could swim to dry our souls.
We're suicidal swans. We're silence in throats we creep.
You'll know us by the shaking ground, when ideas emerge from the deep.
Dolphins have more dignity. Sleepwalking helicopter
Gracefully deseased.
Beauty makes the blind weep.
To describe a song in color is a protriot's symphony.
The light drips on closed eyelids, through holes and weathered sheets.
Curiosity stands up where strange faces hide and seek.
Warming the webs of electricity that dragnet the city;
confusing power with duty, a place with trees like origami!
Monstrous theories dance with nightmares on the horizon.
Absolute equinox.
Listening to history in the present, planets approach the lupine walks.
We're suididal swans.
We're silence in throats we creep. You'll know us by the shaking ground, when ideas emerge from the deep.
We're suicidal swans.
We're silence in throats we creep. You'll know us by the shaking ground, when ideas emerge from the deep.
Offering flowers to the dirt. Like paralyzed dancers we deline and smile and flee.
But with years of past devotion, the crushing atmosphere is bitter-sweet.
In my waterfall, here, in Earth i'll slowly disappear.
7. Lonely Solipsist (3:45)
Parrot, squatting on your throne, mentally captured, are you? Foot-soldered concrete rooted in basement, alone. Corporeality relinquished. Fictive molecules revolt. Soliloquies like apparition of a long forgotten ghost. Lonely Solipsist, sculpture squatting in a cell! Anchored pedometry, concrete throne. Posture vocal like your inflective prose, tethered philosophy, encrypted psychiatry. Powers of rendition on a capricious world, a pawn. Monet inclination for thoughts spoken – never heard. Tragic auditorium for one Pygmalion soul. Manas in transcendence through an infinite cosmos. Destruction. Destruction is the ultimate creation so, your children, don’t regret. Like those to their divine inventions, like all to the planet. So, Lonely Solipsist, what rhyparography floods my eyes? Bituminoid lucidity, in trafficked lumens, hides. What would happen if your trompe-l’oeil was exposed? One brain stacked up eight heads high in perfect proportion. Gravid knowledge crush the skulls in savage rebellion. Design by observation, translated erudition, so many creators cognitively collide like a pride of pansychics. Upon whom redounds this insistent obloguy? Power of observer granted power of intent. The Painter’s brush the Writer’s words, the sinners repent. I declare this pen a syringe! Injecting foreign brains! Obligor objectivist base knowledge on fiction anyways. Pass the blame like nested Russian Dolls, inertly decaying. Smite the epiphenomenalism! Erase those bound to faith!
8. Dead Ocean (6:19)
An Ocean waves hello
Feathers decorate the air and sleeping giants approach.
An absolute nightmare – not having footing to flee.
Suspended animation, face to face with the majesty.
Grotesque interest drew you near but sorrow and awe keep you here.
The Ocean suicide.
Here come the leeches gathering around their host.
Hard to believe it, arterial seacost.
King of carcass, I’ll drown in is death.
Grotesque interest drew you near the towering monument.
Sorrow and awe keep and keep you here while the Ocean breaks.
Flesh weighs more than atmosphere – what’ keeping them afloat?
Still you stare, waiting for the shipwrecks and ghosts. The moon mocks you with a knowing grin. Or, is that the lure of a distant angler fish? Was your role fulfilled? Was that it? Are you face up or face down? Cardinal points are semantic, geometry is religion for mathematicians. The womb that birthed us keep us close Rebellious organs give up early, abandoning ship. The air feels hydrogen-heavy. Your elements are individualizing. Red algae pours across the panorama. Colored film fills your eyes, matching the bed expanding beneath you. With every once you lose, you forget you ever feared you’re physically free. One who survives mass suicide gather the masses to blindly follow. Intonations camouflage obvious idiocy. Approachable outside to welcome them in. Black holes set in spin. A resource more valuable than we expect, wrangled together to redirect. I’ve been around this place before, I recognize the heavy doors opening on the entrance way,
molding a populace out of clay
Stuck in the earth, we’ll stay.
9. The Mass of the Earth (4:40)
I just wrote to tell you this; I did just my very best. I went far but got stuck there. I picked up the pieces, I was your vigilant soldier but the mass of the earth just weighed too heavily on me. How can truth be opinion? How can fact be right and wrong? The familiar turned strange, good and evil unhinged. My utilitarian comfort unsettled. Consequentialist moral reasons categorically examined. Self-knowledge is a loss of innocence! I heard your call to arms, set off the doomsday alarm, but never heard back. So, I set out alone. I don’t believe all I’ve been shown. A quest for truth and fact. I passed a desert town. Uninhabitable pastures of ash brown. Abandoned structures littered like an Aerstan scene. But then desperate people appeared. They had lived in constant drought for ten years ever since pollution got the best of them – wiped them clean. So, I thought "I’ll take their curse away! Let them flourish, I’ll take the pain." I lifted their drought and went on my way. So I’m asking you, help me carry? I’m Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Won’t someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. The journey is bitter-sweet. Logic and consistency do not mix with morality. Justify your atrocities, the trump card never fails. Remove the greed and the ego, and the consciences prevails. No longer empty-handed, I stopped at the coast to rest but found a flood of people drowning in a sea of hatred. They begged and pleaded "End this war! Have acceptance and peace restored!" So, I drank up all their poison oaths. So I’m asking you help me carry? I’m Atlas, Jesus and Hades. Won’t someone please take this weight off of me? The destination is obsolete. There’s nothing left but wrong with me. Global systems all degrading. I’ll take the problems so the World can breathe. And I have nowhere to take thewm so, forever they’ll accompany me. The future is much longer than the past. I picked up wrongs along the way, removed them from the mass. But I still had to jettison things to outrun gravity and not wanting to further pollute. I just left behind parts of me. I’m collecting your tradition, your religion, your depression. I’m trading in your affection to put us all to sleep. So here I lay, bent shoulders, broken ribs. I sink into the earth and all I can hope is to take this baggage to the grave – one more step I cannot take – by the time you read this I’ll have passed away.
10. Everybody Wants You (Dead) (5:00)
You did me wrong! Yeah, you screwed me.
But – guess what! I win, you lose.
How funny, what you show when you’ve got nothing to prove.
Everybody wants you? Everybody wants you dead.
But I want you right here
To see your face when you’ve got no one left.

Sticky fingers touch the treetops...
Could we collapse them with one slip?
Can you really swear by a reality where miles are measured by inch?
Tonight we are two, dipping toes in flooding puddles.
Programmed romance makes us shudder, pictures never grow old.
Obviously dusting powdery days off your skin,
Familiar eyes are rabid, transplanted to a stranger’s skull.

How am I to keep you happy, healthy and strong when you harbor such infection, such scar tissue in your bones. I didn’t think dysplasia would so affect it. You know, tonight there is a crime to commit.

I’m thinking it through – I’m convinced it’s true. You’re the beach of my attention but the tide is coming in. Will you buckle down like barnacles, a one-time contagion?
Will you passively wade away like layers of pollution? Or will you still be holding your breath when tides go out again? What happened to what you thought of me? I shattered all the imagery. The pretense was a forgery – I really am what I present. You know, tonight there’s a crime to commit and I’m the criminal, victim and punishment.
11. Revenge of the Dadaists (6:42)
Sont-ils prisonniers? Devrais-je les libérer?
This seclusion frightens me. What happened to youthful armies, manicured gardens, proud role models? Now I sit, dependent zombie, longing for the physical. One can’t destroy energy, one can only transfer it. What if I never acknowledge reality – could I avoid it? Broken tree roots curling up as if to grow towards the sky, inverting gravity and plummeting angels to hell. Grabbing air pockets to free yourself, you trip on extra limbs and crumble in. The dirt feels cold and soft... seems so foreign yet so welcoming. You hear the Earth breathe and for a moment, laying there, get an internal perspective. Molecules mix and flesh confuses with elements. You aren’t sure about getting up. Perhaps the trees were right and merging with the Earth is the way to live for centuries. Coffins float upside down like cumulus. Knock and see who’s inside! You wonder how the doors don’t swing open. Are they locked in? Should I release them? You leave footsteps of fire so no one can follow your tracks. I should be trudging ahead but I just keep looking back. You never warned me that I would get so badly burnt. I always freeze upon contact now, so the flames don’t hurt. Does controlling pain make it void, if energy is transferred, not destroyed? I invite them all join, forcing confusion through ballpoint. Did you forget the intentional dreaming and patriotic cut-outs? I still feel the strangulation throttling me out.
This is still not the way you want to end. The leaves swing down to tuck you in. This is where you won’t wake up again! I hope you will – I’m just not convinced. You feel the mantle pulse. The fissures throb, the nucleus bellows. You see those around you who felt in all along. Black eyes and superior senses, curious noses seem apathetic. Should they really care? They know they knew what we refuse to understand. Prevention only goes so far, make way for the newborn! There’s only so much carbon in the world – take a number. You’ve had your time, get in line. You must be this good to ride. You leave footsteps of fire so no one can follow your tracks. I should be trudging ahead but I keep looking back. You never warned me that I would get so badly burnt. I always freeze upon contact
now, so the flames don’t hurt.
You must be this good to die.
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