Chisel the horizon into your shiny pistol
And head out west on a horse made of horse skulls
Revolving face
Slip away
Bide your time
Fear for the future
Regret for the past
Blur the line
Have you ever seen a butterfly die as it rises from the cocoon?
Come and go off like a human moth driven to the flame
Drop off and burn out
Into the ground
Your dreams escaped through a sideways door
Lost the keys to your identity before you could find out what that means in the context of belief
Certainty releases like dry leaves from diseased trees
And you can bet your doornail on that
The Alberta crushers hold tight to their rank, astral-gazing grindcore, staring down abyssal torment all the while. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 31, 2020