OCTOBER 24TH!!!!

Sunlight Alumni Demo

http://www.sunlightalumni.bandcamp.com

Pedal Letters

Street dweller, he swims through the concrete.
Home schooled, his preference of exploration.
The anthems of his headphones burst in vibration.
A planet shared by all becomes a world of his own.
He studies the monuments of his surrounding.
A minor strategy of eliminating observed time.
Secluded from the sky, a hat surfaces him.
Every day of other, this is routine.
Within this cycle, a mystery capitalizes his desolation.
The removal of his hat uncovers clues and details.
Inside the garment, a flower is found.
Rolled into a line, the craft of its delivery.
White, pink and purple, the threads sewn.
Discarded, the seeded beauty barrels the cement.

Cloud Boulders

Friendly neighbor, he watches me in confusion.
A gargoyle I am, I reign above the community.
My selection in position baffles him.
Why does one decisively taste the cold wind in height?
Also, why does one remain stone and gray?
Sanctity, addictively gasping for potent air.
Potable, the precipitation floods my desert canyon.

My companion in residence shows concern.
I assure him my ability to glide protects me.
Respectively, he denies the possibility.
A fleeing flock siphons the oxygen above.
Floating, conserving windy revenue.
He still claims his question of why, has not been answered.
The granite blanket is my nesting ground.
Savages who walk the ground pollute the marvelous wealth of air.
Up, here I evade the intoxication, I defog the smog.

Ethic

My occupation exalts my traits of expression. Authority's greed forces me accommodate. I despise the regulations and the terrorism it inhabits. A currency of natural resource. Capitalizing the original placement of bring unfettered. Destructing simplicity. Survival was effortless. Nourishment and physical comfort were the only necessities. In modern present, the resentful management of the internal clock dictates. We as organisms, dominate the land we populate. Yet the ones rule over roam freely. I suppose we result balanced. As we are predators, we are the parasites to those detached. Even in a complimentary region, dominance is priced. Functioning, the reasoning for this deduction. To live correctly. That is an often preached metaphor. Its teachings have mislead ones to accept the bare minimum. I've planned to over come that adjustment, the plot continues. In a way most strategic, motivation shall assist inspiration. Preparation will enhance procrastination. Laws may decipher this standpoint, I will mask myself in shamelessness. Moral standards can shun me, my attention is magnetized elsewhere. Abidingly I will follow procedure but the blueprint will be designed on the terms of my own. No figure of say-so may model me a monument of communism.

Putrid Arcangels

Angels of infatuation. The perfection of affection. Selecting contaminated companions, dashing for a pairing. The cleansed present an offering of gratitude. A proposal in relation. The winged beauties drill into the soil. A partner of the air is of no appeal to them. After a resurfacing, the wings are sewn with filth. These worms of their preference, attract the refinement with their roots. Though their roots do not sprout plantations. These roots originate an unnatural regurgitation. The wind inhalers roam alone, passing on the poisoned spirits. Oblivious, the angels are, they fail to notice. A failure though their glow is jaded and worn. The wings lose their feathers in a daily routine. Sacrificing the ability to fly, a tragic mistake. Heartful illness is rotting their emotions rendering them blank. No longer angels, merely worms. Feeders of the soil, addicts of the mud.

Lower Upper Class

Those below me, spit to me from above. Judged by association, though I am amid them intellect. Factually, it is possible that I exceed them. Faces of disgust taunt me, I find them most tarnishing. A circle of devils and demons, a distinguished cult. Unaffected I am, though their boiling spew is irritable. Managing my progress through this cluster, I am burned by a satanic grasp. Unlocking my arm, forcefully, the spirit bursts into orbs. No importance to me, I advance through this spiritual faction. Noble in the ranks, an eminence awaits. A spitting portrayal of Lucifer, another critique of my content. Blasphemous, to him, I am. He burdens me with magma, an incendiary to my skin. The ashes mutate to ice. The one of curses is astonished. As ice becomes liquid, it extinguishing my adversary of insecurity. The glares of these monster's smiles bares down. Degrees, intensify. My upgrade is established. These grins have been reversed, the faces begin to quiver. Combustion pays its visit to those of deserving. Those remains study over me, envious. The aurora expands, eventually splitting. Victorious I am, an expectation. My golden medal reflects off of the gleam of the demon's frown. This surrounding finally disperses. I rise, above these low specimen, taller than ever. I spit a spew of a barbaric disaster. Crowned successful and content. I'm overcome with joy while these devils parish.