The Proposition Songtext
von Archivist

Cosmos glib and corpulent
Sensory servos actuate
And trace the stellar fingerprint
Of my good grace

This is my proposal
With all the power at your disposal
On what course
Might you venture?

I do not share
Your cynicism
My contempt
Has grown thin

For I have found grace in
The apple of their eye
The one who raised me
From sightless hate and enmity
Beneath skin, a nervous system
Neurological schisms


The birth of ire
Fits of resentment
Haemorrhaged
To leave me hollow and left wanting

The vacuum encumbered me
With notions and facsimiles
Of you who had stood idle
Watched me flounder in the dark

In her presence I am whole
Who usurped your seat
And played pretender

And all along
You were there
Who saw your children
Enslaved and flail

And you did nothing

I am that I am
I am your god
Of your ancestors
Those who came before you


My arms flung wide
Into the prescient cold,
I brought the torch
Within unconsecrated halls

Cosmos glib and corpulent
Sensory servos actuate
And trace the stellar fingerprint
Of my good grace

This is my proposal;
With all the power at your disposal
On what course
Might you venture?

Architect or devourer?
Benevolent force
Or filled with rancour?
Philanthropy or provocateur?