tracks : Mother
- Creation year
I guess by the time of writing this, we consider this our flagship song.
I don't know how long I was writing this but the evolution was relatively long.
First thing I had in mind was screaming
How dare you tear off pieces of her guts /
and call yourself the image of your God?
I was thinking about how we mine coal and gas oil,
extremely precious materials, and use it by burning it.
It's a ventilation of my anger at humankind for treating the planet the way we do.
I took some very specific inspiration for certain parts. The 3/4 part, where the bells play, was inspired by the end of Dream Theater's A Change of Seasons (from 21:09 onward).
Percussions and overtone singing on the recording are perfomed by Berhnard Weiß. He also took the original recording.
Imagine I kick your mother in the face. What would you do? Imagine I tear off her clothes in disgrace. What would you do? What would you do? Do you hate me for even asking? What would you do? Would I deserve to stay alive among men? Judge as you would. Would I deserve to die a slow and painful death? Judge as you would. Judge as you would. Do you get the point of my asking? Judge as you would. She gives life to us all. Of her we have been born. Our Mother. Our only Mother. Her skin holds our feet, so would you please just treat her as your mother? Your true Mother. Her body feeds us all. Men walk and babies crawl on her arms and suck her breasts. She is the east and west, she is our Mother. For thousand years it's been a one-way love. We even think that she is not alive. Suck off her blood. You can burn it to feed your car. Don't care about her scar. You can turn it to plastic mug. Don't worry, just shrug. Use once, then burn it. Burn it. Piss in her eyes. And the poison you spit out, feed it back to her mouth. And it goes on years and days. Don't bother separate waste when you can burn it. Burn it. How dare you tear off pieces of her guts and call yourself the image of your God? Not even our pride can touch her grace. She's one with God and so she'll stay. And she will rise, she will awake and we shall die, oh blessed day. Om Kali, Om Mata ...