"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