By the words in which you choose
You mouth them aside
Not a humble place to die
The priveledged few find knives upon your words
Leading the blind
And speaking for the mute
Has defined your snake in the grass career
With a beak as massive as the tongue you use to lick your wounds
So let's paint the town red
With the blood of the disbelievers
Let's chop them to pieces
With dull, rounded cleavers
As long as zero exists
One will become a hundred
So there will be bodies to spare
As for, "Thou shalt not worship false idols"
Am I guilty?
I don’t really care
He screams and shouts at the top of his lungs
The deity ten steps from our wrung
Drag him by his fucking hair
The river below makes him one of our own
x4
(Oh god)
The madman lives
Castrate those with stones
We’ll shorten the rivers
And plague the roads
We’ll take what we’ve got coming
And give it back ten fold
So follow me home
I'll leave the lights on
The Philly trio have been making technical but not impenetrable instrumental metal for nearly two decades. Their latest shreds, of course. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 8, 2016
The Australian prog band channels the chaos of climate change into powerful songs that juxtapose beauty with unpredictable brutality. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 28, 2021