Bound,
The ground resembles golden gourds
Of amrit as
it slithers
Into your throat, forced open
By hands with
torturous tools and
Ropes to hold you in
Your vessel to
the equidistance.
Acidosis sets and ejects your insides
out
Hours lapse and the insects gather around you,
Decubitus and violently sick;
Infected and dying.
On the seventeenth day
Breath escapes the ribcage
Sick with ulcers that...
That pus and decay the feeble
frame
Drowned in waste and the eggs
That are laid
In
the septic holes
On your cranial case;
Sense replaced
By fever and pain.
Hatching legs set the pace
To
envelope the brain and taste
The thoughts that dare
escape
The cortex plane
To the feast of devouring
temporal space.
Facing into the sun
There is no grace
Until the blood fills your lungs
With toxic shock
And
dementia is done.
credits
from EP,
track released March 29, 2011
Max Zigman - Bass, Guitars, Programming
Riley McShane - Vocals, Lyrics
Ivan Munguia - Guitar Solo