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"Faces Of Hate" - A music video by Robert Dada
"Faces Of Hate" - A music video by Robert Dada
Originally released on the 1994 album, “Cerebral Hemorrhage Sex”
Song ©1995 Robert Dada
Video ©2022 Robert Dada
Face I – My Grandson
Face II – A Dead Child
Face III – Choose Or Be Chosen
Face IV – Playing With Fire
Lyrics:
Face I: My Grandson
Conceived image
Deity aggression
Evolving, advancing
Creature perfection
Acquired reaction
Polished blue steel
Offering sensation
Blind scorch out
Helix malevolence
Dark hue attack
Low level guilt
Unachieved desires
Maligned consort
Congenital disease
Punish the clan
The thumbs of kings
Invisible crusade
Shadow of the winged one
The exchange, the dogma
One and the same
Subterranean clash
The microcosm
Evidence duplicity
Aggressor-victim
Flash sight and sound
A dark avocation
Black glass reflection
Eternal soul
Perceptions engulfed
The swirling ink
Mutated mind
Realization hits home
Face III: Choose Or Be Chosen
He lived his life-cognizant
Didn't need to see a register
Feelings shared and interrelated
Among his predecessors
Resigned, he accepted the justice
His need to protect his living
But he never knew his boundary
And he never knew his place
Choose or be chosen
No sages in the world of reason
He turned to blood, prophets, kings
He looked to his brethren
As a guide to his hidden side
But he strayed off the path
And the sky turned a blind eye
He considered to cross the river alone
But that's no different than waiting for the ferry
Would that not make him more lost
When he at long last divides
Musing left him cold
The riddles eluded him
His striving for clues
Had left him detached
As detached as the others
Black birds fly into the setting sun
As the doves fall into the sea
Others had searched for the talisman
But had forgotten from whence they came
The legacy, listened only by the deaf
As the scarlet waters rose
Sight and sound weavers ride tall ships
That sail aimlessly in the night
But the stars never come out
In the calm or in the storm
The image turns to powder
And the air swallows the faint intonation
And the black birds soar ever higher
Who was he then
To consider that he might find a way
When all the white doves
Have fallen into the sea
He assented his loss
And his beast grew within
Left him alone in the cold air
Given up for dead
He too was born to the mother
That had blackened his hope
That had blackened his heart
So that he could swim
In the night
Face IV: Playing With Fire
You can strike a match
But you'll never light a candle
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