Say at Last- Who Art Thou?

by Joey Molinaro

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credits

released May 26, 2014

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about

Joey Molinaro Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

ON TOUR IN EUROPE JUNE-AUGUST 2015 *
Acoustic experimental black metal/ solo grind violinist Joey Molinaro’s “stomping and ferocious playing is inescapable,” (Foxy Digitalis).
Molinaro “executes the spirit and function of hardcore punk and Appalachian folk” (Foxy Digitalis) with “vocals [that] haunt, like a preternatural voice from beyond the pale” (Razorcake) and torrential boot-stomping.
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Track Name: Glossolalia
2. Glossolalia

Once-bright youth,
eyes wide...
Towers rain down.
Folks doze in silent
chaos.

Now struck comatose
hollow life
on tubes like
broken shutters
on choice-less
film.

One brainless
futile drive:
flight toward failure.
Wild strides flail.
Furious skyward shouts...
No way to restrain
our unaware hero:
a fly to fire!
Track Name: Young Ghosts
3. Young Ghosts

There I see*
young ghosts alone.
The shades
become a swarm.

Terrified,
they give up
their souls*
to flutter
like banners,
trailing
conscious-cidal*
gleaming dragonflies,
proud of the
carnivores*
ensnared
in their wisps.

Hear them scream,
scared of our
shapeless,
silent
existence.
Track Name: Thieves
4. Thieves

Thieves built
a road to my town,
then sold me boxes
of wires.
No fires warmed
the cold air as*
I learned
to use their code.

Now in the church
I curse God.
Why give me language
and tools that*
keep me from speaking
truth?

Come with me,
daughters and sons!
Build me a hammer
of steel!
I will make you
flutes of clay*
like the ones you pawned
on the highway.
Track Name: The Don Quixote Youth Brigade
6. Don Quixote Youth Brigade

With no giant in sight,
they accuse windmills
of genocide.

Mounted upon
a chaise lounge*
the Don Quixote
Youth Brigade
rides out.
Track Name: Millions of Hot Queers
7. Millions of Hot Queers

It, a person
meets another.
They feel shallow
ripples*
across their skin*
in anticipation of*
becoming lovers.

They talk.
They become he and she.
A familiar sense of *
disgust comes over them.

He becomes an old drunk,
pausing in his
braggadocio*
only to remark
on her hair.

She becomes a scolded child*
who longs to suffer *
for his violent emotion.
Track Name: Dehuman
8. Dehuman

Cowardly lover!
I await your cocaine lies*
with pained doubt*
as a child waits for his*
matriarch to wipe his nose*
knowing fellatio fills the void*
where a feline ghost*
player her true male.

Nihilistic dehuman!
My heart cremates even your*
fragrant sweat*
yet smeared on my face*
and then like a *
drowning weasel*
furiously claws its way*
out of my chest!
Track Name: Horror In Fidelus
9. Horror in Fidelus

In the mandala's shadow,
I utter names divine.
Before the homophobe*
these words appear:
"DIE ALONE."
So be it.
Track Name: Bicameral Breakdowns
11. Bicameral Breakdowns

You are unknown, thus I must know me.
In this city, faces are nameless.
We have been and someday we will be,
unlike fauna living each moment.
Those I hold close and the unfamiliar*
work by virtue of our desire*
and of symbols righteously sacred.
Some are found yet some are bestowed by*
mystic worlds or epic musicians.
When Great Eyes speak; heedless, I obey.
Pyramids rise; wordlessly slaves toil.

Final choice: one way to die and one to be victorious.
Life or death of nations relies on how we go on.
Wisest sage, advise me now. I pray thee for your guidance.
Why must your words be proverbs and useless regurgitation?
Darkest time: no sleep or food... And worry fuels my sorrow.
Now appears my god to me. With voice like mine he councils.
ìO my kingdom, O wide-eyed crowd, Apollo thus has spoken!
Gaze upon my gilded orbs, allow his voice to be yours!
Muse and poet, my words you sing. Through me you praise Apollo!
Only through the oracle and royalty you ?nd truth.î

Foundations laid by peons*
obeying one voice reigning*
in the mind of the radiant guide...
Now cities swell. Raving mad*
ascetic rants rage louder.
Agonized loss: God's weakening voice...
Why does he leave? Does he not love us?

But glorious Consciousness, how you enlighten!
Without conduit your beauty flows,
at once river and tributary!
Divinity is raised, transcending ourselves without hierarchy!
How intense, the ecstasy of existence!
Reality is synthesized from action and reflection;
my neighbor smiles at our dialogue.
The jewel, the sound of one's voice inside springs forth like a fountain*
after schizophrenia destroys the divide.

O the terror of the youth, stricken with consciousness.
Seeking escape from its awesome meaning,
they may sow lifeless bicameral fruit.
If an empire erupts, decayed fruit may lie unseen on distant barren soil,
unsprouted and forgotten.

Conscious-cidal worlds riseñ not Zen but*
hiding failureñ preaching lies of choicelessness.
Fate, faith, speechless deafness cause one's*
mind, soul, heart to close tight. Even the*
brain splits; cleft in right and left hemi-
spheres, ears lost but for loud media.
Power owns divine thought, and says to*
consume as a way of life and to*
conform and be carelessly brutal.
Power owns divine thought. Break down!
Track Name: Zuccotti
12. Zuccotti

I can now make out*
the husks of spirit auras;
disembodied, blinking,
staring goat-eyed skyward.
Track Name: Saint Theresa
13. Saint Theresa

Industrialist!
Belly-acher!
Housewife!

Grinding through life,
jaw fixed and strained,
no sleep at night,
pain deep inside,
wounds on the face,
clothes ripped away,
broken and torn,
Track Name: Roaches and Lice
14. Roaches and Lice

Roaches and lice surround me.
Fumes of overwhelming odor rise from*
brownish mounds of sweaty clothes*
shaped into a nest.

A family squats here.

Let my mouth be filthy*
like this world that broke my heart.
Track Name: Bathing Beauty
16. Bathing Beauty

Painful moaning*
Mountain Dew*
Rage and squirm*
masturbate*
sighs they voice*
prayers of*
envy!
boredom!
cruelty!
failure!
jailhouse!
dead will!
dead eyes!
deasd weight!