Allflaws – Prima Donna (Verse 2) Written by Gabriel Curran

They make you shine, they make you bling,
They package you up for mass consumption, 
They make you sexy, they make you beautiful, 
They use your body to sell you soul, 
You’re the icon, you’re the symbol, 
You’re the product of human desire, 
You got it all, you live the dream, 
You’re everything I don’t wonna be.

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Allflaws – Cradle To Grave (Verse 2) Written By Gabriel Curran

The shift ends and now it’s time to go home
Take a rest from the corporate monochrome
All tired and beaten up from the day
Need to sleep, but I stay awake anyway
Get a fix, escape for a short while
Have a drink and crack a little half smile
On the couch, staring at the TV
In a slumber wishing I could be free
Flicking through the channels of distraction
Keeping me in a state of inaction
In a cycle, blighted by the routine
In a trap, governed by the machine

Morning By Gabriel Curran

The unnatural waking state into the sound of cluttering plates
The pulling from the pillow into the weeping of the willow
The morning breath chill, the waking against your will
The 7:30am spill, of the coffee with no thrill
The removal from the dream into the madness of routine
The frost covered car and the barking dogs of Babylon
They want to keep us here forever until death do us part.

Allflaws – Soulless (Lyrics) Written By Gabriel Curran

Verse 1 from (Allflaws – Soulless)

Alarm rings to start the day, as another dream fades to grey
Can’t break from the daily grind, living life on borrowed time
Early rise, tired eyes, clocking in to slave away
Everybody is on the run, and no-one stops to take a breath
Life keeps passing by, and every chance is getting missed
Time keeps ticking by, and all we do is just exist
The cunning trick of this design, keeps us trapped inside our minds
Can’t see beyond these walls, and can’t see what life could be
Just caught up in the same routine, with no time to live our dreams
And no space to go and roam, and no truth to call our own
Just shadows of our former selves, swindled by this cruel game
Just shadows of our former selves, feeling all the systems pain.

Allflaws – Manufactured Violence (Audio)

Seems like a lifetime ago since this was released. The lyrics are more than relevant now I feel. What a time we are living in. Culture is so dumbed down, superficial and vacuous. Music is at the forefront of this relentless dumbing down and general debasing of the mind. Rampantly promoting primitive and aggressive men who are unable to speak very well is one way to fragment culture. An inarticulate, unintelligent and aggressive man is nothing but futile and dangerous.

Luna By Gabriel Curran

The city screams in ultra violet delirium, reverberating colour, waking solitude from its cold and shallow slumber.
Chaos becomes the sweetest companion, as clusters of crazed activity become the magnetism for the lonely and unholy.
Broken strides, falling steps, soaring heights, scaling ambition, jaywalking the wavering tightrope across the digital skyline.
Seeing elation unfold in the gutters of reflection as melody bounces off the concrete chambers.
Bass riding the cities everlasting distance, as a thousand yearning voices ricochet of every burning star.
Distracted by the luster and the mad apparitions of frantic hedonism, under the spell everlasting desire, and the promise of something more.
Salacious and insatiable, hypnotized by the harlot queens, gregarious fiends, potential dream sharers, and moon child bearers.
Reinventing the wheel then riding it naked to heaven, surfing on a bull through Babylon whilst holding a hornets nest, basking in glories which are yet to come.
Spending forever amongst blurry faces, distorted gestures and ostentatious bards.
Sipping on tonic freedom, toasting dead hero’s, downing kindred spirits, tranquilized by warm memories and waves of lucid sound.
Romanticizing fanatics, tripping on neon glow and pheromone scented street corners.
Fantasy addicts searching for a carnal fix, a bodily high, some fresh flesh to buy.
The moon relentlessly luring, coxing and charming the spirit from its withered self consciousness.
The darkness persistently teasing, concealing, hiding the succulent breasts of the night.
We are brought by the moon and taken by the sun, but the circus of suffering has been postponed until the morning that will never come.
This is the time for the rampant and restless ghosts of never ending debauchery, as they parade along the twilight horizon,
beckoning the lunatics who want their lunar fix.
Their unrelenting boisterous hysteria purging the weak and weary,
this unforgiving dream set has no place for morose souls who can only watch from the wings with child like envy.
Because in this world, hero’s are made from bottles of ritualistic poison, and truths are found in forgotten dreams and faded out scenes.
Because in this world, these famished libertines, these wandering nomadic hipsters,
live electric, turn I fears to ideas and make colossal canvases from the jet black sky.
Because in this world, the sun threatens with light that will cast long shadows of our former selves.
Because in this world, the moon is your trusting friend, your benevolent guide until the end.
Because in this realm, a fools charm might just save you, and a jesters card might just play you.
On and on it goes beneath the auspicious, shimmering white hole in the sky.
Bustling street mania running through the veins of every fleeting soul, every lost roaming spirit.
Duality and causality, rampantly fornicating in the minds of the free and easy.
Death and life, dancing beautifully, gracefully in time to the rhythm of chance and opportunity.