De Cipe Or Ops - Those Against the Truth

The truth of their own beholder. There is none in him in their golden deceit Retreating into their cycloptic gland the apple of their eye Discordia. the age of the bewildered beliefs off their rails of the reality tunnels Truly a crazy train to avoid the truth by division creating endless tunnels of dystopia The unapologetic of their own heresies Blacks smiths of the ancient psyops Bring back the out cast of their own makings whether swinging in Jung's jungle tuning into Leary's leery lyre Blavatsky blatant blasts Freud's fairest fraud wanton Anton's or Crowley's unreality. All are like Dionysus genetic cupboards perception pills. The altered states of discontentment crossing wires in their twisted hannibal codex.Cybernetics new captain of trans humanism still shrugging the world off their shoulders for the evil that they perceive into an atlas of chaos with quasi- motto ringing bells for their Franken-design. Their upside down stairways leading to the stagnant light of a cracked door a vultured eye absinthe. To get over their guilt of their own law do what thou wilt assuming that their conscience are not defiled and all the while they are searingly beguiled The truth is is is the Truth the absolute. Lies lies lies prowl around in hooded greys propagandist of the endless mazes. Lighting false fires of the Prometheus blaze hissing asps of the doubled tongue setting their own world on fire. Like the orange clock work of the Georgia guide stones. The meth wine of the undivine with nobody to come only a desire to go. But....