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BearTooth Collective

Marionette Machinery (For The Greater Good)

from by cunabear

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I'm pulling the strings
There's no calling for help when you're already floating on Icarus's stolen wings

Wax dripping
(Smells of treason)
Sun gleaming
(For some reason)
Connection to muffled pleading
Lost not found

Look at man, he
Holds objective truths in subjective solvent and laughs when the outcomes come out constant
Martyrs light the torches on the Great Wall
We've all got great goals
Our children bear the coals of our misfortunes this Christmas season
(I've signed up for a second semester of classes surrounding acting with honor and
Hunter-gatherers fester from the ground to thieve supplies for the feast from the dumpster bins they've found)

An assembly line of puppets who's heads can turn to face their master learn never to question actions until after the fact and when they come for us, this is how they're acting, verbatim from the calf's bleats

Can you taste the summer rain
Every drop of condensation waterlogs my joints and peels the paint from all my clothes
Naked and alone on stage with shotgun wedding prose that connects to the creative garden hose

(Stepped on)
Stepped on to build the pressure
Stepped on to build the pressure

Marionette Machinery
For the greater good
There's always guidelines to choreography
Set us free

Where's the killswitch to this
Enigma by any other name is ignorance is bliss only spoken through Sanskrit texts you can't commit to memory
The nature by your window is a hologram of modern man before the common man was given weapons with which to protect and serve the lands that bear no masters and taste no pleasures

If the universe saw you a fitting tortoise on who's back it could sit and rest, would you throw it off to walk alone and talk or suffer so another could stand tall enough to call you brother

Is the money worth the offer?

Does the money make you suffer?

Is human decency all gone?
I'm tethered

To this televator wire that extends and connects to the never ever after

I've grown tired of these strings that hold me down
They force a laugh that hides a frown
My every instance in life is double-helix-knotted and leaves me hog-tied down
I work no tricks
As you can see
Yet it's the artist not the art who chooses to dance and sing
And still I hold no fucking strings

Marionette Machinery
For the greater good
There's always guidelines to choreography
Set us free


from BadFurDay, released November 7, 2016
Produced by sp00ks.


all rights reserved



cunabear Savannah, Georgia

Patron Saint of Patron Saints.

Jazzy, lascivious, psychedelic rap.


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