this dead land we tread upon this stolen earth our ancestors took and perverted
make some space throw up some houses the suggestion of safety room to procreate
but oh! they'll see when their children rise from the frozen hills contorted into hideous figures that revile and retch at all their fumbled attempts to assert themselves as an intelligent species
nothing comes from nothing, everything leaves tracks in the sand
the universe ain't bluffing, yr story has a definite end
let the new world crumble, under it's weight and dance to the sound of a global struggle to keep this old train from breaking down
so before we go let's get things straight: those who prolong the fall of men, and those who just can't wait.
could've moved mountains with these monkey hands but we're still scratching our differences into slate. those holding the ransom will ask, "what's the worth?", to our pigtailed captors, "eat my afterbirth"
yr chained to a reason that's not yr own
the ghost of human spirit is restless
can't you hear it moan?
new world class is muddy water crippled roads and broken bones and an empty flask
bide yr time as our cities collide and all our efforts sink into the mire
but oh! this is the future, we can build you at the cost of a moderate war. you know there is a problem, but instead of acting you simply ask for more.
this is yr stained century.
so before we go let's get things straight: those who bleed the blood of passion and those who just drip waste. justify or cope: this future's second rate. those keeping us captive will shake with mirth, to the living dead: "eat our afterbirth"
As the name implies, there’s something wonderfully spooky about this Philly band—shoegaze with a haunting undercurrent. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 27, 2023