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lyrics

Steal the cold to commune warmth.
Flourish or burn on a high horse.

The epigones are coming.
They're gleaming in influence and apologetics.

Set the table, wipe out the misery.
Quiet - listen to the furnace speak
of hand-me-down ales popping with psychology and long life prospects:
We'll drink to that!

All these faces on the floor can taste refusal.
Quick - turning, turning.

Stringing along some kind of fear.
I prayed for wrong, but he isn't here.

They've found me out, too late.

Disrobed and grinning with cocksure step
when the blood bath is shimmering.
Pitchforks and torches push out to the edge of town.
Pale veined and bone thin - fall down
when the blood bath is shimmering.
Disrobed and grinning with cocksure step
when the bloodbath is shimmering.

credits

from These Didn't Fit, released June 7, 2019

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Lower Automation Illinois

Noise-adjacent mathpunk from Illinois.

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