We weep for the blood of a bird,
But not for the blood of a fish.
Blessed are those with a voice.
If the dolls could speak, no doubt they'd scream,
"I didn't want to become human."

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a mix for a soul cradled in metal and wire and the slow decay of memory designed to draw the line between human and machine. for the sense of something forgotten, for moments lost in time, like tears in rain. for a woman that stares into a glass, darkly, and cannot bridge the gap between what is known and what is seen.

because transcendence comes with sacrifice, and to erase the line between man and machine is to erase the line between man and god.

25 tracks