Heavier than the grace of our youth, breath tastes like the bricks are stacked ear high, vice tight and the lights are long gone. Vision in the wind on our faces splitting the numb; a fiery future for a dry past. Aisles of these, aisles of dreams taking on decay, they stretch for years behind us and our wings can’t shake the dirt. Aisles of these, aisles of dreams taking on decay, they stretch for years behind us and our wings can’t shake the dirt.
Feathers turn to flame.
I know you’re going going gone and long in the trail, long in the smoke, long in the flipping flailing stacks of pictures.
I know you’re going going and gone and long in the trail long in the smoke long in the shuffling shaking stacks of pictures perfect in every way slipping away behind me.
Blackened death metal riffs and Lovecraftian horror go hand-in-hand on the Seattle brutalists' ferocious eight-track epic. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 6, 2023