Summertime Diamonds, Summertime Death

from by Shea Bilé

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about

:╪:About:╪:

A little bit of Lucy in the Sky, a little bit of Eve, a little bit of the Void, a little bit of nothing and the low of love deferred. "Summertime Diamonds" represents a falling out of love with oneself; forfeiture of a world best envisioned as a frail, tragic, and nihilistic lover whose demands call for the exhaustion of life itself.

lyrics

:╪:Lyrics:╪:


She chooses her words like she chooses her death:
Always in little pieces.

I used to be the black star anti-hero,
the rebel without applause;
the black-clad Son of Sam
night-stalking his dreams.
I was once a proud disciple of the “other” category.

But I’ve become a 401K-paid slave,
A 24 karat puppet
who dances on command
and throws going away parties for himself
at various cubicle concentration camps.

I’d get into gear,
but my aspirations are in the backseat
toking it up with my day dreams
and hot-boxing my perceptions.

But something must be happening to my gag reflex,
because I’m hanging from a fluorescent noose,
yet my tongue dangles
loosening my bonds,
trying to convince my fist to resurrect as my lord and savior
and crush the dopplegangers that live on my shoulders
because they’ve been trying to bullshit my consciousness
and trick my brain into remaining comatose.

But St. Lazarus arises from the death tube glowing,
adorned in Hi-definition white robes
and a cathode ray halo encircling his head.

“You are the walking dead,”

he says,
then ushers me toward the garden,
a mass of needle-thin metal grass blades
and twisted crystal daisies.

It’s beauty blinds me
so I begin to bow in prayer,
but I’m interrupted by my own corpse
hanging from the Tree of Wisdom—
a mass of twisted fiber optic cables
and broken monitors.

He appears as an angelic zombie
eating apples made of glass
and playing with his plastic ribs
hoping to resurrect himself.

But before I could help him down,
Eve’s face flickers on a nearby screen
and she screams,
begging me to be released.

So without a thinking twice,
I set my other self aflame
while growing xenon wings
and setting flight,
dragging the All-Mother up with me to the sky.

and there we find Lucy,
a crystal whore-mistress
dancing on the glass ceiling.
She holds a jagged diamond
to my heart beat,
she tells me that fucking her
will unlock my divinity;
and I’m wearing protection,
but she’s already infected my reality.

And I’m wearing protection,
but she’s already infected my reality.

And I’m falling,
waking up again
in the same bed I died in yesterday.

credits

from Tzimtzum, released April 9, 2016

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about

Shea Bilé Los Angeles, California

Shea Bilé is often heard somewhere on the Moon speaking in tongues with fallen angelic-eccentric flair. Within these songs resonate a sonic ceremonial fusion of not-so-subtle tragic instrumentation and lyricism born of aggro-elegant punk-poetic and unrepentant occulture.

Socal-based poet, Shea Bilé, is a relentless storyteller of the 5th dimension, and the Never-afters that follow
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