released June 1, 2015
Drums, percussion - Borut Praper
Instruments and voices - Rich Lloyd
Produced by Borut Praper
all rights reserved
- Track Name: The Leech
i am the leech reaching out to feast.
i am increased, chewing at you always.
i will never cease depleting you.
for more than i can chew.
i'll take a bit from each.
i am a leech ripping everything from you.
i have to feed. put you to the screws.
i am a leech beseeching with my teeth.
i bleed you. i squeeze.
i'm clinging like a barnacle.
i am a leech.
a parasite consumed with hunger and greed,
i smell a meal, depleted and decreased from you.
but im not so bad, take me back. i'm misunderstood.
i am a leech absorbing all that i can reach.
i need everything i see.
a scavenger, a weed ripping everything from you.
im not so bad, take me back. i'm misunderstood.
i am a leech. a hungry pair of teeth.
i vampirize and steal a pound of flesh from each.
i am a leech.
i eat you. piece by piece i do.
- Track Name: Famous Last Words
you went off the rails now and then,
or did you evolve and transcend? yeah!
and on and on we crawled along.
sprawled along the wailing wall.
was it worth it for your famous last words?
there's too many others here.
the noise is fucking overbearing.
there's too many others too connected here, and decimated me.
there's too many voices whispering for me to crawl away,
until the lasting pain sets in.
until you're miserable for nothing.
you're craving attention, my friend;
climbing the ladder again, yeah!
and all along i've played a pawn here, on and on.
and all in all, was it worth it for your famous last words?
there's so many others here.
the noise is fucking deafening.
and there's so many others too collected here, and dessicated me.
there's so many voices whimpering for me to crawl away
and bear no further witness to this wretched spectacle
that i can't see and i can't speak of in my mystified ignorance,
where you hide behind your famous last words,
where i'm quiet now.
- Track Name: Down in the God
my eyes shall look and see it come to be,
the best of all possible worlds, where i alone am watching,
where i am rejoicing, down in the god.
it's going to seem like a foolish daydream.
draped in a splitting chain of sand. so mote it be:
give to me this little bit of peace when i am down in the god.
here is a crown, woven into a colorless world consisting of nothing.
it flashes no lustre, and i descend into the god.
and i'm down in the god, and here is another,
created from the evils of the tongue. it licked the heel and cried out:
"i perish with nothing, and i descend into the god",
but the truth will lay as thick as the scars of a wound that i have thought enough on,
and i am broken now when i descend into the god.
when i am down in the god, the truth is that i try and cannot cry.
what a shame on me. what a lame sage am i.
i murmur in darkness maliciously. down in the god.
- Track Name: Fourth Wall
you opened the birdcage and the devil flew out.
exquisite and worthless, writhing in desperation.
lock up your ghosts, cut your eyes and bless yourself.
hide behind nothing. swerve and embrace the end.
the light that shunned you and the face that bled
heated the pins in your spine.
dilapidated and birthing a razorblade,
praying to the saint of medication.
you burned a path that the brainworms can take,
a prayer for escape.
twisting like pigs to touch the illness,
shut the door and let your soul bleed out.
reel from the white noise and stroke your bleeding knuckles,
the ugliness too much for you to bear.
oh, what a red mess you've made...
spitting your jaundice at a monument of porcelain and eating contagion,
dead these many years.
breathe in the pestilence. your face in a waste of desolation
that took you on high but shut the door forever, so hold it inside for the rest of your life,
the multiplying pains, night and night again.
break the fourth wall to document the sins of your thought.
what things you have done. the thought of it too much for you.
- Track Name: Jimmy the Lock
a parasite is in the money supply,
giving people the incentive to die.
a fucking vulture feeding off of the dead,
a filthy rat that needs a boot to the head.
he's a doubletalker, snuggling up to both sides.
he's a squawkbox acting like a tough guy.
he's a jackbooted thug taking over your life.
he is bleeding you dry.
so break down the walls, or jimmy the lock to drag him out of power.
break down the walls and pull him from where he stays
and take his money away. give him no one to buy.
make him stop bleeding you dry.
his bloated pocketspiders spinning their lies
will grow a bony cancer over your eyes.
his endless wars will camouflage you in blood.
he'd look better under ten feet of mud.
he's a chickenhawk with a jaw made of glass.
he's a billionaire fucking snake in the grass.
and there's anarchy like the lord of the flies.
you will see he bled you dry.
- Track Name: Storms
storm's a comin' on up a dusty plain.
a storm's a comin' and it's gotten into my brain
that it'll drown the drought around the town.
folks'll come from miles around
to see the storm that brought us back the rain.
- Track Name: A Loner at the Door
burn your tongue, and let your lungs cough the cancer out.
see the boils on your face. let them suppurate.
get a bandaid, a blade, and some antiseptic.
pick your favorite and scrape.
rip a bloodless hole until it's frayed, cut away.
carve it off your face and cut the vein.
let it drain, drenched in medication.
let the high fade away.
nurse a nervous headache, and you will find the gift of desperation.
and you will scream into the carnage:
"if you love me, then why wouldn't you sink down with me?"
and you will open up a window in slackjawed pain,
and the stinging winds will slice across your necrotic face.
and like a shambling apparition draped in a chain,
a loner at the door will peek in and say,
"i hate to say i told you so, but i told you so.
i hate to say i told you so... but well, you know".
scratch and pick at the stitches,
and the green secretions sickly sweet, like gangrene, drain perpetually.
cut the string. let it swing like a marionette,
like lepers streaming through the arches, to sing into the carnage.
- Track Name: Made of Sticks
an imperfect dance. a delicate balance.
holding a house of cards
with all the cracks that tarnish the wall.
you smell the glue holding it all together,
forming this mosaic of frailty,
afraid of its weight.
it's breaking, decaying,
and you're still here towing the line.
not dead on the inside.
not hanging by a thread.
and here are my eyes, my own disguise,
spying on something i've hidden away.
- Track Name: We're All Special
stay away. take away what i will now say.
open up your eyes and see:
you wear your emptiness so openly.
you even said so yourself.
why can't you just let go?
you'll never let me, until you finally know that i'll never love you.
you even said so yourself.
spit on the day i met you so you can finally go now,
but i never let you. i never loved myself.
but everything was connected, with never an exception.
everything is connected down to the framework.
and all i've proliferated, broken down, reiterated.
all of this is an echo of what came before.
and everything separated is stitched back together.
all that was disparate, cast away and pulled back together.
all of this an echo of what came before.
i've made it to the core.
watching films about wars pulled from the same cord,
i've made it to the core, and the tapestry is tattered.
beautiful and shattered, stripped down and fractured to the iron.
thrown into the sea, into purgatory.
and the one with no thread unspun would wonder that i can be saved
and with the love and disgust that is at the center of it all,
i don't know when i will see you again,
so keep yourself safe.
- Track Name: Up Half the Night
here we go again. lie down and cry.
can't you feel the pain of this contemptible lie
that i might retain some wholeness,
perfectly designed in vanity? prideful as i.
all would be lost from the foulness.
there's a panther out tonight.
snuck in from the outside.
still your bleeding lungs and keep on the lights.
i'll take you home.
i am in the furnace of so real a dream.
insomnia again, and time is dividing.
- Track Name: In Shambles
if you hurt my pride, if you wound me inside
and it puts me in a bad place, you're not bad.
but if you cross the line and i cast you aside
and it causes you to suffer, i'm not bad, and we're not wrong.
this is just bad.
we won't get along. we'll always be mad.
if you ever tell me lies, i will cut you inside.
i will split you down the middle. is that bad?
can i get by without the tooth you'll take for your eye,
or will you run me through the shredder again? is that bad?
it's all wrong. it's gone bad, and i don't belong here.
i'll always be mad.
maybe i was wrong. am i the bad one?
maybe i'll be gone. i bet you'll be glad,
but if you do not cry when i say goodbye,
i will place you into exile. is that bad?
and if it wounds your pride, if you're hurt inside,
if you're finally in shambles now, i'll stop being mad.
we're all lost souls here. i'm not mad now.
do you ever smile?
why are you so sad?
- Track Name: Haunted, Part 3
- Track Name: Puzzle
peculiar perch i specify
shifting at a sign from this
double-time untidied: tie thy right
lines along pearls all modified.
wild, raring anger, muddled up,
warped trestle, hieroglyphic edge,
filling endless sayings of investment,
adjacent lien, shuffled parallel.
they right it differently.
eleventh semiprime freeform, calligraphic sword.
copse rim corrupt.
embody you definitive, endlessly.
ordered into soul elucidation.
what you hear is occultist
axle pins changing and clarifies,
indefinite faceless man
abstract toil-dune path twisted,
coder in it duo heard facing
definitive you, endlessly conjoined,
a gentleman gives voice to return
regarding heartless oaf, you definite,
endless encryption. break the head from understanding.
a pair, squared and squared again edifies within out,
definitive you, endlessly triangular.
prime, the nine ten jostled first,
rip me tricky, linked headless troupe
truncheon here, definitive you, endlessly
ten taken. three remain.
cut-off plateau stair tailless, joyous joins inscriber.
i possess an objective:
chaos game, in the puzzle.
- Track Name: Fall into the Rafters
and now i see it all align.
poverty of spirit and decline in your tired eyes.
they give it all away.
the sharks all want a bite out of you.
they're hungry for a bone they can chew.
they're draining all the life out of you.
will you turn a blind eye
that despises the life that you're just getting by on?
your tired eyes will give it all away.
replace the pain with anger like i do,
for time that you were never meant to lose
while i was dreaming of a shadow of you
turning down a blackened river.
yesterday i loved you like i do,
you crazy, fucked up kid.
you really ought to take a break.
we can laugh and love each other.
you should fall into the rafters with me.
and for now, a little a bit of peace.
sleep with a phantom of me.
see me when you stare into the celing, won't you?
- Track Name: Ominous Escape Music
- Track Name: A Pox on Sunday
and i would listen to my prayers fade into silence
and echo off, and elliding, i'd curse the filth of a cross
to bear, a weight along the lateral line.
i'd write goodbye again, but i'd wait there, biding my time.
my blasphemous tongue would sing
"how i feel unloved by god".
but as always, i'd appreciate the red wine,
the better to feel my senses all ignite.
and i'd feel alone.
i'd rise and i'd recite my own seditious hymn.
my blasphemous tongue would split my lip and sing:
"love the cause of the distressed, of they that are turned away,
and accept no substitution held until the end",
but, as always, i'd appreciate the sunshine.
the better to see the absence of the light.
how i feel undone.
i've crawled my path along the sanctified debris.
i write goodbye in the sand for the ocean to see,
and now you will hear me.
the ignorant laid to waste fucking worms and doorsils washed.
i am of the dream which has the truth,
and the decay of nothing i bear witness to.
this is the secret:
i am here, and the rest is nothing.