
Passive aggressions slumber within all of us. If we aren’t careful, they corrode us from within until the facade collapses. The toxicity of this state escalates consistently in both the lyrics and the composition itself. A dangerous, smouldering fire.
A Cybergoth leans against the bar in the flickering dim light of a saloon, playing with their empty whiskey glass. This is the sound of ‘Passive Aggressive’.
Lyrics:
My flesh is weak
I feel caged
Bones start to reek
Betraying my rage
Swirling dust in the light
Dull thumping drum
Sweet smell of blight
Flickering lights hum
Burn the house, smoke my passion
Eat my fashion, my flesh is weak
Burn the house, smoke my passion
Eat my fashion, my flesh is weak
Consciousness corrosion
Stale slow poison
Fortune favors the old
They always get paroled
Consciousness corrosion
My mind is broken
Stale slow poison
Words no more spoken
Burn the house, smoke my passion
Eat my fashion, my flesh is weak
Burn the house, smoke my passion
Eat my fashion, my flesh is weak
Passive aggressive obsessive compulsive
Active excessive obsessive compulsive
Active excessive oppressive impulsive
Burn the house, smoke my passion
Eat my fashion, my flesh is weak
Burn the house, smoke my passion
Eat my fashion, my flesh is weak