Dried coarse, singe, bracken wilderness
got me tying my hands at my back.
An inbred toxin, bet you'll shit sour on your sheets.
Back and forth, now we simulate as if consensual.
Let it gasp, felt the spasm through the knife as I thrust it
into the fifth or sixth rib.
It's dull, hoarse scream will never touch an ear.
Bellow at the wall.
Bellow at the wall.
Bellow at the fucking wall you must.
In bile I'm borne, in elation now I'm found.
Laden with the gamut of my reminiscences.
Indulged in scorn as the three Erinyes.
Mesmerized, my lungs swell in ecstasy.
My hands shivered.
Bellow at the wall.
My hands shivered.
Bellow at the wall.
Bellow at my fucking wall you must.
supported by 5 fans who also own “Caress (The Boiling Nerve I)”
Whelp, it's official, all of my political news about the subcontinent comes from grindcore albums. Fuck Modi indeed, gimme back my damn 1000 rupee notes, demonetizing shitneck. Ghuughra
supported by 4 fans who also own “Caress (The Boiling Nerve I)”
Doom lourd et profond, mélodieux, athmosphérique, prenant son temps pour conter ses histoires (5 titres pour un peu plus d'une heure), avec voix principale gutturale basse de rigueur, accompagnée parfois de voix claires (parlées ou chantées) et quelques incursions vocales plus BlackMetal. Un voyage mélancolique et inquiétant dans d'inconnues abysses ou alternent les ambiances posées et d'autres plus vitaminées. EklektikTrip