There is very little left. After we've broken the seal.
It just keeps on pouring out. Fills the void we can't conceal.
Turning all the green to brown. We'll forget what beauty was.
Slide your filth under the ground. Bury yourself. In. Shit.
The earth weeps for us.
It sees our horizon.
It knows our path.
There's always a chance for redemption
but I fear our inaction.
We'll soon be deceased.
Distant memories for surviving life
and what we leave behind.
Endless guilt and shame
stacked to the heavens.
Choked out by the smoke
of our burning hope.
Skyline belching smoke. Past that last resort.
Waters choked with filth. Past that last resort. |
After we pulled the plug. It's like we just gave up.
The absence of will. It's like we just gave up.
The sun knows our mistake.
It sees the changing winds.
It's watching us burn out.
It's like we've never been.
It's so obvious to everyone but us.
I guess you need a longer perspective.
Time makes it's escape in each passing day.
Recognition failed.
Whispers on the air.
Answers that don't make sense.
Facts that don't add up.
The endless escalation of a spectacular fraud.
Brides die on the altar.
Churning up flesh.
Making us regret.
All of it.
Beside hell on earth realized.
Seconds past the time of relevance.
Of life.
The industrial rock heavyweights return with their first album in over 20 years, produced by John Fryer (Nine Inch Nails, Cocteau Twins). Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 16, 2022