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Andrew Okeefe - Shelter Lyrics

To those from the next generations who might read it as but a childish fable and not a social criticism. Good read.

Summary:

Prologue [Page 3]
Part I: The Colour Carmine Red [Page 4]
Part II: The Suicide Of The Mother Of Us All [Page 6]
Part III: The Eulogy [Page 12]
Part IV: The Funeral Pyre [Page 14]
Part V: Dancing Of Gavels [Page 15]
Part VI: DIE TO LIVE [Page 19]
Part VII: Agony In The Garden Of Gethsemane [Page 20]
Epilogue [Page 23]

Prologue:

-- Adam's a living proof of condescending being with opulence in the heart and tyranny in the mind, praying vehemently to the altar of himself. --

Part I: The Colour Carmine Red

At the crossroads, there was I, puffing on the cheapest spliff my money could buy at the time, walking by the edges of the ledges of a terraced vicarage out west of the retograde City Of Atrocities. -- which was shrouded in darkness altogether -- where the dazzling sun never shone upon. When suddenly I witnessed a orphaned, fully-fledged, gold-feathered pheasant offspring right under the pale moonlight -- he was astonished by its ethereal incandescence; which was the sun in disguised burning through her; captivated by the blackout and somewhat slightly aghast too -- crawling up the thatched-roof of a broken cottage house a few kilometers away of where I was, in pursuit of a sort of a shelter -- the wreckage in-between the dormers I supposed -- situated right on the halfway to the peak of roof. But It didn't take too long for a belligerant bird of prey colour the fragile pheasant in carmine red all through and through like a oil painting of white Ophelia floating, lifeless, upon the puddle of her own blood. The roof itself was littered with carcasses of all kinds of pheasants scattered all over. -- tracing a curvilinear trail to the intangible shelter where none of them ever stepped into and ever will.

"Oh, my dearest, dearest, pheasant! I'd wish I had swaddled you in a comfy cloath, and thereafter I'd wish I had cradled you in my forearms like a helpless baby ultil you had fallen into a celestial slumber of no return, whilst a choir of sparrows would be singing a lullaby for thee. I'd wish we could've had flown to the highest height that any bird or any or any man can reach, over the railway station of life until the train of death comes and takes you away from me. Fly in peace, my dearest darling" I murmured to myself wiping the mob of poisonous tears welling right up to the edges of my nightshade eyes.

Part II: The Suicide Of The Mother Of Us All
One day in the quiet of the night I saw the theophany of Madame Hope -- The Mother Of Us All -- leant up against on my wall, voluptuously wrapped in a flyaway darkish-blue nightgown of satin. -- as stupendous as the shining of the Hope Diamond, a blue gemstone framed by an oval pendant of 16 smaller diamonds.

"Listen, dear Adam, listen. Freedom's a sort of unorthodox religion built upon love and not fear. To fear is blasphemous, to fear is a deathful sin. But, at least, some of it may be enough to fuel every fiber of your rectilinear body with fury and wrath to withstand this ongoing odyssey you are in.". She, persuasively, whispered those wise words through the frigid breeze of New York jolting me awake like the screaming of a rooster at sunrise from the coma I was in, and at that very moment I felt the stormy sea of self-doubts in my war-torn mind boiling off like it wasn't even swallowing me. The rhetoric was her foil and she fought like the most clever of the sophists.".

"A feast of fears undoubtedly provided Gilgamesh -- a king of Uruk from the ancient Babylonia -- days and nights of resilience to keep on seeking out his unattainable immortality until his conformity killed him."

"Freedom's a religion where in its followers pilgrimages through the negro streets outside the City Of Atrocities, barefoot, aimlessly -- with a short-faced bear's strength -- oblivious to the obstacles along the road beneath their feet, heading into an eternal search for a shelter far away from the factories of sterotypes and the irksome peddlers of false dichotomies -- heading into an eternal odyssey in search of an utopian progress which still being an ideology."

"Mother..." I replied clutching onto my blanket and the sheets underneath it, as hard as I could, but they weren't meant to shield me against the truth, I just pretended they could. "I, Adam, shall take control over people's minds to dethrone the kings of iniquities and bring peace into this world. I was born to wear a crown, or at least take the power thereof, and I will.". And I really took for granted I could do it without love and hope, just clutching onto my blanket and sheets.

Subsequently, I watched the silhouette of Madame Hope, walking towards the largest window in the chamber, step by step, and then throwing herself out of the Hemisphere House building -- where I used to live back in the day. And suddenly half of the one whom once I used to be had perished into nothingness. Melt into oblivion. Wiped out from the matrix, therefore, just a mythological figure lost to history.

And as an afterthought I realized she was the branch and I was just a immature persimmon clinging onto it.

Part III: The Eulogy

"My beloved mother, I must bathe my crow quill feather pen into a black ink bottle and unto you write one of my most sorrowful eulogies, sitting before thy funeral pyre as the flow of kerosene tears trickle down my scarlet cheeks eating the bitterness off my skin -- in order to nurse this exquisite pain of mine which squeezes my dying heart in its fist like a very stiff sailor's hitch, unable to be undone.

"O sweet serial killer who slaughtered my hopes! I solemnly swear one day I'll get out of all these tiny boxes which I shrunk myself to fit in. Je t'aime, moma, adieu. Rest in peace" I wrote it like it was the last feeling of mine I would ever depict from there on, but even the most disdainful child of all the trivialities surrounding her wouldn't have believed it.

Part IV: The Funeral Pyre

"Wherefore dost thou left me when I needed you the most, my dear? Now here I am sailing through the seas of uncertainty on my loneliness as the fluttering flames of thy funeral pyre corrode every atom belonging to you into mist.

Part V: Dancing Of Gavels
“Mother, I am the one who killed those pheasants from the news. -- the one against whom their fathers swore to take vengeance on -- I bludgeoned one by one to death with no remorse whatsoever. Mother, I'm one in a myriad of scoundrel vultures, one in a myriad of hunters of fragile creatures, I'm a repulsive collector of blood-stained feathers and other unpleasant things."

" And now I am sinking my sharpen-pointed claws into my own chest to pluck rib by rib off my sternum as a prelude to break this hollow egg-shell heart of mine free, whose rage holds hostage pounding against my ribcage. -- abstained from love, abstained from warmth."

“Mother, I've done unpardonable things. I really did. I devoured them all like putrid meant to satisfy this voracious appetite I have, and I ate their cheap dreams like carrions. -- I shouldn't have done it by the way -- And now I can't get away from this anymore, I can't flit from hideout to hideout and call them home sweet home. Now, I must confess, I must surrender. By rights, I should knee below a guillotine and feel its lozanged blade making its way down my neck."

“No doubt I am a complex being deserving of each wicked epithet given to me. Either I confess all of the loathsome crimes I committed or I will live in this perpetual state of fear -- an untamed fear of being handcuffed by the Pinkertons, sentenced to death in the courtroom of life by the supreme pontiff; and executed by the Almighty Lord for the lots of pheasants I've killed -- until my very last day. So, mother, I MUST CONFESS NOW. I am phantom shackled to this decomposing corpse unable to rest., laying in wait within my own coffin until the dancing of gavels begin.”

Part VI: DIE TO LIVE

I MUST DIE TO LIVE!
I MUST DIE TO LIVE!
I MUST DIE TO LIVE!
I MUST DIE TO LIVE!

Part VII: Agony In The Garden Of Gethsemane

“Rely upon me from now on, I've already paved inch by inch of your way right back home. So follow me. As long as you live there will always have a place to be from and you need to search for it from the inside out, you can't get to it from the outside in.”

"Regardless how cliché it may seem to be, thou canst not escape from having to always have been, although thou looketh at thy inner self seeking after futile subterfuges to."

“Life goes on, my dearest Adam, so don't you ever say to me again you must die to live, EVER again.” seeped a sweet dreamlike voice out of the cosmos — which belonged to my beloved mother — beckoning me to cross through the threshold of Gethsemani to grieve and supplicate in agony -- like the Virgin Mary depicted in La Pietà -- to the Almighty for THE SAKE of my mixed-up mind, the so-called shelter, where I belong to and I always will.

Epilogue:

“At length, I feel vividly how it's like to be free. Goddam, I am...so free.”
Written by Andrew O'Keefe