Synthesis, the combination of two or more parts, whether by design or by natural processes. Furthermore, it may imply being prepared or made artificially, in contrast to naturally.
In linguistic typology, a synthetic language is a language with a high morpheme-per-word ratio, as opposed to a low morpheme-per-word ratio in what is described as an analytic language. This linguistic classification is largely independent of morpheme-usage classifications (such as fusional, agglutinative, etc.), although there is a common tendency for agglutinative languages to exhibit synthetic properties.
Synthetic languages are frequently contrasted with analytic languages. It is more accurate to conceive of languages as existing on a continuum, with the analytic pole (consistently one morpheme per word) at one end and highly polysynthetic languages (in which a single inflected verb may contain as much information as an entire English sentence with various words such as a noun, an adjective, and an adverb) at the other extreme. Synthetic languages tend to lie around the middle of this scale.
Synthetic languages are numerous and well-attested. Most Indo-European languages, all Kartvelian languages such as Georgian, some Semitic languages such as Arabic, and many languages of the Americas, including Navajo, Nahuatl, Mohawk and Quechua are synthetic.
Synthetic is the first single released from Spineshank's album The Height of Callousness.
The music video released in 2000, shows the band performing in a room with bright lighting whilst a woman walks in and starts using a computer to create a synthesizing sequence whilst Johnny Santos is plugged into a computer. Then robots start to appear in the room. Johnny Santos shouts at the robots until the system overloads and the band members start to escape.
[Solo: Eltakchi]
He will die
She doesn’t know yet
He wants no lies
Have not a friend
More than that which I deserve?
I was defied
Woken from my celestial bed
I was a martyr inside my head
Banish me to here!
He will die
She doesn’t know
What he’ll become
It’s quiet, it’s easy
If you don’t believe
And you won’t, trust me…
Pious, servant, so sure you
Banished me to here
Know my tale
My scripture, my war
The boy is dead
[Solo: Coull]
Now you know
Now we know
The boy is dead
But his limbs still grow
A man is here
Taunted and tested
The simplest of childhoods?
“God plays with his best!”
Life’s little pleasures like
Shuffling in sand
The gift of a soul
Left youth contraband
His voice of a stranger
Known better than my own
His bidding and judgement
Left me overthrown