(These are the conversations we have when we die)
The boards have their teeth.
This house is a mask, it's me.
Returned bearing grief. I'll make believe
that this fortunate find could mean everything.
Dancing with the rest; a kind of transcendence.
You can pick it apart; pull off the skin.
Red Herring or not, this is where we begin.
Beat to a pulp, our ghosts are kept from us.
But what we pass off as fodder and feed one another
shares the same traits as bridges that friends venture off of.
Grievances whispered will be your to treasure.
I've been waiting for years.
And after all this wreck I can sleep again.
Categorizing sects, I can sleep again.
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