Timothy Alan - Victor's Countdown: Day of d**h lyrics

October 22nd, 2012 / 5:37am – Today I Die Love… …is a venomous drug. It k**s you. Here I stand, at the twilight of the beyond, and as I look back over my entries in this journal, I see someone who I no longer recognize. I was lonely, confused, sad…angry. The Demon The Moment The King ... The Revolution Each of those things was a specific instance in my journey to the end. I encountered them all on the road to where I am right at this moment, but they did not cause me to be here. The “cause”…was love. No. Not love. A longing thereof. I wanted love so badly that the longing ripped a hole in my heart. I bled until I ran out dry and replaced it with a toxic serum that filled my veins. My new blood was made in a factory; my new heart was the pump on a syringe. I pitied myself into the arms of a devil wearing a beautiful mask. As soon as we embraced, it sank its teeth into my neck. That's what love does: it s**s the life out of you. It sustains its own vitality by gorging on your soul and lapping up the juices that trickle down the sides of its mouth. Its eyes are a bloody red, its teeth sharp, its intentions impure. Love can't live without you, so it insures its own life taking yours. When your mind's eye envisions “love” it sees beauty. Well friend, I've embarked on a spiritual journey that rivals any great migration seen on this world or the next…in this life, or the next. I've buried my knees into the ocean floor and laughed with men in space. I've been “there” and back again more times than your mind will ever comprehend. I've seen the universe for its faux beauty…then I hosed it down with waters of truth and watched the colors smear and begin to drip. I know the answers to our questions. They are truths you aren't ready to hear. I've stared love straight in the face and seen it for what it really is…a gluttonous pig with its victims hanging lifeless from marionette strings. We are slaves to the emotion, blinded by the feeling, then paralyzed by the touch. You'd do anything for love. But what has love done for you? Has it caused you more joy than pain? More victory than defeat? More triumph than misery? My mind is evolved now. I see life through a third eye that was always present but remained shut. I see right through “God” and the “Devil”, they are only symbols; I look past them into something greater. They say that love is everlasting; they say that love is all you'll ever need. That is a lie. It k**ed me, and nearly every living thing in New York City. This is my final entry. If you are reading this…if you have gotten this far…then I am surely dead. Not k**ed by The Demon, The Moment, The King, The Revolution…or the drug. What k**ed me was my endless desire to experience pa**ion. That desire is what ended my life. The battle for Brooklyn was a remarkable one…a crimson sea of awe-inspiring destruction. As I approached the war-zone, my boots were soaked with the blood of friend and foe alike. It was a madhouse. The National Guard was powerful. The Infected were pa**ionate. Pa**ion trumps power every single time they clash. We were being torn to shreds by the guns of the organized militia, but we wouldn't stop. We wouldn't slow down. I looked into the eyes of my brothers and saw devotion so profound that I wanted to capture it in a jar and call it beauty. I wanted to drink it every morning and bathe in it every night. I wanted it to be a part of me…but it wasn't. Something had changed inside of me. Perhaps it was my newly beating heart, jump-started by a little boy in an attic, or maybe my mind was finally coming to terms with the fact that our reality was meaningless. I turned my weapon to the enemy but couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. I knew what we were fighting for. I knew how the cause had made me feel once before, but at that moment, I was lost in a sea of apathy, buried under a headstone of indifference. I blinked and I was no longer in Brooklyn, but rather, at a funeral. I was standing in line to look inside of a pearl-white casket. In front of me stood The Demon, The Moment, The King, and The Revolution. I looked down at myself and saw that I was fitted in a sharp black tuxedo, a single red rose in my breast pocket. I ran my fingers through my hair, it was full. I touched my cheek, it was warm…pulsating with life. I placed my hand over my heart, I could feel the thump of it beating in my chest. I was whole again. A soft melody danced through the air. The Demon was the first up to view the casket. His eyes shone with the brilliance of a thousand suns, his hair was white-hot fire. Next up was The Moment, she was as beautiful as she was when we last locked eyes. She wore that same red dress, her mascara running from her tears. After she was finished, The King stepped up to the casket. His head was nothing but a skull, a bloodstained crown of solid gold sat prominently atop his head. The Revolution was next to go up. Son of The King, The Revolution was a tall, muscular, and brutish man with a large scar across his face. Once The Revolution completed his viewing, it was my turn to approach the casket. I slowly walked towards the glossy d**hbed, unsure of what I would find. I leaned over and looked inside…there was nothing. A blood-red velvet interior with a pillow in a silk case, flowers lining the perimeter...but the casket was empty. Confused, I took a few steps back and felt a cold hand on my shoulder. “We need to talk.” a raspy voice muttered from behind me. I spun around and was eye-to-eye with The King. He walked me over to the section of empty chairs directly in front of the stage where the casket lay. He took a seat and motioned for me to do the same. I leaned in intently to hear what he had to say. I tried my best to look him in the eyes…but he had none, so instead I stared into where I a**umed his soul would have been. “Do you know what's coming next?” he uttered flatly. “No.” I replied. “Right now we are overwhelming the National Guard.” He continued. “That's not what I saw.” I responded, confused. “They have Humvees, tanks, APC's, better training, better armor, better weapons…but we have numbers. There are a few thousand of them and around a quarter million of us. Most of us don't have weapons, but it doesn't even matter at this point.” “So…will we win?” “They will push many of us back into Manhattan, and they will retreat. We will think it's over, but the celebrations will only last long enough for them to send out bombers.” “Bombers?” “Planes, they are going to blow Manhattan Island to pieces. The shock-wave will destroy large portions of the surrounding boroughs.” “So does this mean that we lose? Is the revolution dead?” “No. They won't k** all of us. There will be plenty left to forward the cause. I've already ordered about 50,000 to leave the city and head down the Eastern seaboard, we are going to take the coast.” “Brilliant.” “That's why I'm King.” I blinked again. And suddenly I was back in Brooklyn. Bullets whizzed past my face as I dropped my rifle to the ground. I patted my right cargo packet…my journal was in there, still intact. My third eye allowed me to see the future. I knew how it would all end. The battle no longer interested me. There was only one thing that I wanted to do at that point. It was the same thing I'd been doing for the last week. I just needed a quiet place. I tuned to face the direction of Manhattan. I could see the Empire State Building looming omnipotent over the skyline. There was a soft glow irradiating far off in the distance behind the iron giant. I glanced down at the screen of my radio, it was 4:57am. I ignored the ballet of carnage that surrounded me. I could no longer hear it, see it, taste it, touch it…all I could see was that glowing skyscraper, and The Demon hiding behind it. By the time you read this, this journal will have drifted away. I am currently on board one of the Coast Guard boats we hijacked earlier, headed back across the river towards Manhattan. Next to me is a box of freezer bags I found in a vacant house on the way here. When the ink dries on this final entry, I will wrap this journal as tightly as I can and toss it into the river. Drift away. Find a new home. I originally said that you would find this journal next to my dead body. That was a vain remark. I wanted you to find this so that you could feel for me, so that my words could move you to care for me, and so that maybe you would kiss my cold cheek and whisper something caring into my ear as I lay in rest. It was all about ME. Everything up until this point has been all about ME. The lie I told myself about “love”, my delusions of post-humus grandeur. I have finally discovered that I am not what's most important. What's important is that you do not become what I am. That you do not fall into the same trap, that you don't become a victim to the manipulation of emotion. So, this is for you. You…whoever finds this…I want you to forget about me. Erase my name from your memory. I don't want a fiber of my existence to ever be uttered to another soul – living or dead – on this planet. I am not what's important. My message is. Let my words burn into your soul and remain like the mark on my forehead. Remember THEM. Not me. Please. I am almost back to the other side of The River Styx. I've lived, died, then lived again…and now I am returning to the source, so to complete my journey. This journal will go overboard in a matter of minutes…it will float somewhere in the waters between life and d**h, suspended between this world and the next. Drift away. Whoever you are, I hope this brings you peace. It did for me. Thank you for taking this journey with me, and remember what is most important. I had one last vision…just as I was boarding this vessel. It went something like this: I was back at the funeral, standing in line like I was before. Everything was exactly the same. The Demon, The Moment, The King, and The Revolution each took their turn to view the casket. When it was my turn, I stepped up again. I looked down into the pearl d**hbed and this time I saw something… …me. It was me. I was laying in velvet bed of flowers. My skin blackened, dried, and peeled. My hair was stringy, brittle, and scarce. My teeth were rotted. My eyes shut. I stared down at myself, not sure of what to feel. I felt a hand on my shoulder. This time it was warm. I turned to see The Moment. She looked me in eyes, wiped her tears and smiled. I returned the smile and turned back to face the casket. She moved beside me and looked into the casket as well. “You're so beautiful.” She said with a smile, not breaking her gaze from the rotted corpse in front of her. “Both of you.” I smiled. She leaned over into the casket and gave my deceased self a light kiss on the forehead. I reach out and grabbed her hand; I gripped it tightly as we both stared down into my future. Suddenly, I heard chatter behind me. Lots of chatter…it sounded like a crowd. I turned around to see the seats in the funeral home filled…every single one. I looked over each of the faces…some were familiar, some weren't. Suddenly, the doors to the parlor opened and the sunlight shone from outside. There, filling the streets were thousands of people, each dressed to the nines, patiently waiting for the opportunity to enter. “Where are you going?” The Moment asked as she broke my instance of silent amazement. “To the Empire State Building…the top floor. I think I'm going to watch the sunrise.” I replied with a smile. The room erupted in cheers. The streets were flooded with dancing and laughter, the sun shone brighter than it ever had before. I reached out with my other hand and clutched both of hers in mine...I stated intently into her eyes. “Is this what it feels like?” I asked with a smile. The Moment gave me a toothy grin before leaning in close to my ear... “Yes.”