Yeah I’m feeling sick, sick of hiding and filing my face to fit flat on the black top so kids on bikes and scooters can make backwash. Wet cement and railroad tracks. Go ahead and pack your bags, we’re going underwater. Ransacked by hollow bones. I’ll float before I fly. Can you believe it? I’m the meanest fetus, eating your bird seed and feeding you flies. All I’ve got is nails, while you’ve got knives, but where's your hands? Make the maggots take a bath, take their pride and pry their chest open. I’m calling your coffin to tell her you’ll be coughing up your last breath and coming home soon. Saving up edges of tables for infants to fall on. Is that wrong? Yeah. Your fad's gonna burn. Fighting off bees, slowly leading the blind with eyes married to stingers. Lynch mobs want blood and these noose bearers will be frozen in their tracks, tied to poles, and used as dart boards upon their last breath. Whatever better keeps the heart from speaking out, from speaking up. Oh when solitude puts images of witches in my head, I caught buzzard after buzzard breaking bottles on my bed.
This band's from Gainesville, FL building a utopia of sweet, hurt good sounds for you and I to move to. You like the shivers? Not from ice cubes but soulful goodness? Well...headbang with feeling! Cattle Drums
This music was written on an uncharted planet (Orange County, NY) and it's gonna really bust open your insides and start a heavy flow of exotic intoxicating feelings! Cattle Drums
The Italian hardcore group’s latest is a powerful, claustrophobic album that rarely lets up its mathy, metallic assault. Bandcamp Album of the Day Feb 6, 2018