1. |
To Dream is to Suffer
04:47
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Even with everything I dreamt of I can't seem to shake the thought. I gaze outside while they frolic and fall, laughing while the sun kisses their pale faces. Arms outstretched to tear away the clouds with faces painted by spring's soil. I am alone in my fulfillment and have exhausted my prayers, knees swollen and scabbed from the fold of my begging. My slit gripped by the glory of maternity only to change its mind a few trimesters too late. Humanity is fickle like the hormones writhing through all of us. Here one day, gone the next, even mothers desire dust. I'll crack the earth beneath my feet and return the bones of my burden. Ligaments torn by the drone of my hymns, with palms bound shut by gold-trimmed testaments. Their shells will spoil for compost to fertilize shameless gardens of concrete. What good are dreams if they come true? We all exist in the
promise of nothing.
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2. |
Leech Eater
04:13
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I will ingest your will like swine. Emasculating your sprawled idols statured in modern temples. I long to cleave your speech from throat and limbs from center. Fuck your "namaste" and fuck the hope that drives it. Will of leeches, bottom feeding sacks of shit.
Manifest your destiny of excrement.
I loathe this modern world.
I long to kill this modern world with hands of disdain.
I loathe my modern world.
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3. |
Hostless
04:22
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She spoke ceramic words as broken as the legs she crawled on. Promising me a money shot in heaven’s wound. I dissolved in her meadow only to set it free with a septic growth. A growth that was never bathed to cleanse the sins of origin. Her carrion deteriorated me unto dust while her soil began to bud flower pedals smelling of shit. Putrefaction beckoning the disintegration of my organs while my spine, coiled like a millipede, was fossilized by the rust of indifference. Her Earth whispered to me with open legs and the breath of an ovarian cyst gripped in sickly shame. While tonguing me with the rotten buds of regret, my member boiled with treacherous rot. The aneuritic walls opened and bled for me. They swelled to swallow me while I kept drilling and digging to find a place for my hate to sleep. A throne for my parasite. I planted poison in her soil and walked away, gently washing the blood from my hands. I can only hope that when we die we'll be a happy family while we burn.
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4. |
Scum of the Sky
02:39
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I saw an angel today and I ate its wings. The flesh of seraph filled my empty gullet. It had a message that someone will never receive. It's of no importance anyways because your god is a jealous bitch. Scum of the skies, bleeding us for every fucking dime at will. His quaint little fucking messenger turned to sand in front of me as I cackled like Ted Bundy telling yet another lie. What a fucking shitbag I am. Like that dipshit nailed to wooden boards. Our morality sells for so little when it's founded upon the feces of martyrdom. Charming scent of prescribed enslavement, it doesn't matter anyways, we're all cowards. Believe nothing. Everyone lies and everyone dies. You'll believe anything.
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5. |
Scum of the Earth
03:48
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Hope slips our tongues though overcome by nesting termites. Choking down the lies we stage with the promise of teary eyed altar boys. Dawning our gags comforted by papal guilt. Constricted in monotony. Our chests can no longer rise and fall and our bones shatter as though seizing. Reaching out with arms as broken as our hope. One just cannot help but grin at our spineless form, distorting to try and create purpose. Slithering across our own shit to dress our graves with clean sheets. Happily dancing, fucking and deep throating our umbilical link to reason. Our hollowed thoraces guised in laughter. Smiles as useless as the faiths that create them. Nothing is all. Everything void.
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6. |
Cure for Aging
03:48
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Save me
From the day
I wake up without a prostate
Leaving a dick only for pissing
Save me from the day I can't make it across the street
From the day I can't even make it to the shitter, much less wipe it away.
Save me from the day my skin cracks and washes away
Save me from the day the last follicle falls from my ear
Save me from the day my spine bends beneath the decades
Save me from the day I fall to my knees and pray
Save me the pacemaker, save me the defibrillator, save me the catheter, save me from all of my friends’ funerals
Save me from the day my spine bends beneath the decades
Save me from the day I fall to my knees and pray
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7. |
Vers La Flamme
04:28
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The future is the lair of bastards, and may the stench of piss guide us to its fields of trash. Conjuring posterity is like providing vermin a fleeting speech. We breed only to appease our broken, chickenshit, forefathers. Lavishly exigent cowering suns with hearts quivering, warm in their rib cages. Feeding and bloating that contemptible little wish not to bite some dust. As pink, pale and soft as worms, clumsily writhing in rivers of mud. Torn and forked like the trails we've never walked, dried and cracked by autumn winds, like the trees we'll never climb.
The sun gleaming with indifference as it swells, without the slightest concern for the tomorrows we dream about. It knows its destiny, just like ours. Crowned in cinder and left with hollowed husks, as torched as our future, held grasping in the wake of our own self destruction.
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TEETH California
Expressing our hatred through visceral dissonance.
Erol Ulug- Guitar/Vocals
Alejandro Aranda - Drums
Peter King- Bass
Justin Moore- Guitar/Vocals
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