1. |
Dead as Disco
02:22
|
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|
I haven't felt well, in twenty years.
I don't think I remember, how to express myself.
Disconnected, no will.
Disengaged, decaying from within.
Lay my head, down to the ground,
listen for a signal, listen for a sound.
I haven't slept well, in twenty years. I don’t think I remember, how dreaming has to feel.
Raise my hands, high to the sky, no signal, no fucking sound.
Earthbound.
Long..
Long lost.
Have I.
Have I lost.
Lost my mind.
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2. |
Serpent Prince
03:10
|
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|
Aligned
Identified
Adapted to you
Bound by your side,
Tormented below.
Bodiless existence, sunk and alone
Relying on nothing, inspired by none
Battered and blue, turn to the sea to hold you.
And it’s holding you.
Cold to the touch, binding your broken spirit, inferno waves, coated in blue.
Slave to the midnight sun, I belong to the sea.
Slave to the midnight sun, I belong in the sea.
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3. |
||||
|
I am not
the hand of god.
I am a hound,
and fury
is my vessel.
Oh captain, my captor
Damned to the tomb.
Crimson moon,
Be my shepherd.
Hellhound, hell bound.
My wounds are infected.
Hellhound, hell found.
A wolf in the flesh.
My thirst, relentless.
Hellhound, hell bound.
My brother the vulture,
we are the plague.
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4. |
Fragments of Warmth
02:55
|
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|
Neck deep in regret, for the loved one,
I’ve managed to neglect.
I’ve dug myself into this predicament and I deserve to sink.
Selfish, lazy,
embarrassment I am.
And I,
can’t turn back time.
And bury your affection
Endless sleep
Underground
I could have been
a better person.
Words cannot express how sorry I am.
I am late, to save you.
It was too fucking early, for death to take you.
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5. |
||||
|
Finally found your way.
Lost in a daze, wandering day to day.
And it snows.
I’m exhausted and it shows.
And it shows.
Willfully sunken to the ground.
Mother earth please let me down.
Father storm I’m on my knees.
I’m not sorry love,
I’m not sorry.
Your place is here
but not beside me
I’m not sorry love,
I’m not sorry
Rolling thunder hear me.
Hell is a February winter.
Frostbitten, and it snows.
|
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6. |
Insect Politics
05:27
|
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|
Growing up is putting other people.
Deep down, down to the ground.
And our bodies delivered to the hand.
The hand of time, reaping with a scythe.
The soil and you.
And our flesh,
begun to rot.
Decomposing
Rats and dust
Insect politics, you’ve been selected, to nurture the underground.
Insect orchestra, your grave is a chamber.
Ripping, gnawing, echo through the soil.
Throats you had to cut, to get in line.
to get ahead, ahead of time.
Shame hangs, hangs from.
|
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