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by CortisoL

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The Fiddler 22:21
The Fiddler saws the strings, His light brown hair he tosses and flings. He carries a sabre at his side, He wears a pleated habit wide. “Fiddler, why that frantic sound? Why do you gaze so wildly round? Why leaps your blood, like the surging sea? What drives your bow so desperately?” “Why do I fiddle? Or the wild waves roar? That they might pound the rocky shore, That eye be blinded, that bosom swell, That Soul’s cry carry down to Hell.” “Fiddler, with scorn you rend your heart. A radiant God lent you your art, To dazzle with waves of melody, To soar to the star-dance in the sky.” “How so! I plunge, plunge wihout fail My blood-black sabre into your soul. That art God neither wants nor wists, It leaps to the brain from Hell’s black mists. “Till heart’s bewitched, till senses reel: With Satan I have struck my deal. He chalks the signs, beats time for me, I play the death march fast and free. “I must play dark, I must play light, Till bowstrings break my heart outright.” The Fiddler saws the strings, His light brown hair he tosses and flings. He carries a sabre at his side, He wears a pleated habit wide. Dear Father! There are life-moments that, like border markers, stand before an expiring time while at the same time clearly pointing out a new direction. In such transitional moments we feel ourselves compelled to observe the past and the future with eagle-eyes iof thought, in order to attain consciousness of our actual position. Indeed, world history itself loves such looking back and inspection, which often impresses it with the appearance of retrogression and stagnation, while it is really only sitting back in the easy chair, in order to comprehend itself and to intellectually penetrate its own activity, the act of spirit. The individual, however, becomes lyrical in such moments, for every metamorphosis is partly a swan song, partly the overture of a great new poem that strives to win a pose in blurred but brilliant colors. But poetry may only and should only be an accompaniment. I had to study jurisprudence and felt above all the urge to wrestle with philosophy. In order to make this clearer, I take the liberty of setting out the schema up to the division of jus publicum, which is also dealt with in the formal part. I. jus privatum. a) on conditional contractual private law, b) on unconditional non – contractual private law. A. on Conditional Contractual Private Law. a) personal law; b) property law; c) personal property law. a) Personal law. I. on the basis of encumbered contracts II. on the basis of contracts of assurance; III. on the basis of charitable contracts. 1. on the basis of Encumbered Contracts. Karl Marx
Frantic, he holds her near, Darkly looks in her eye. "Pain so burns you, Dear, And at my breath you sigh. "Oh, you have drunk my soul. Mine is your glow, in truth. My jewel, shine your fill. Glow, blood of youth." "Sweetest, so pale your face, So wondrous strange your words. See, rich in music's grace The lofty gliding worlds." "Gliding, dearest, gliding, Glowing, stars, glowing. Let us go heavenwards riding, Our souls together flowing." His voice is muffled, low. Desparate, he looks about. Glances of crackling flame His hollow eyes shoot out. "You have drunk poison, Love. With me you must away. The sky is dark above, No more I see the day." Shuddering, he pulls her close to him. Death in the breast doth hover. Pain stabs her, piercing deep within, And eyes are closed forever.



released October 25, 2020

Comrade Michael Wall: grand minister of the chainsaw cathedrals, evil incantations and formal explanations
Comrade Laurent Seiter: first secretary of the bulldozing black waves committee, nauseous evocations of the lukewarm meat from the graveyard, administrator of the secret brass graves
Comrade Florent Bouchy: lider maximo of the structural bombardment architecture and radial engine adjustments

Totalitarian funeral doom by CortisoL.
Lyrics by Karl fucking Marx.

Recorded && delivered by Comrade Laurent with partisan means of production established by the blind forces of history.
Fact-checked artwork by Comrade Laurent through class-conscious dialectical analysis.

No rights reserved. Fuck copyrights. The mention below is fake news.


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CortisoL Montréal, Québec

Sludge / doom / thrash / grind band from Montral, QC, Canada.

Laurent Seiter: Bass / Vocals / Trumpet
Michael Wall: Guitar / Vocals
Florent Bouchy: Drums

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