Imprint this front row seat to the end of my world
February 3rd, '59 all over again
Thrust headlong into the deep and the cold
Tried to hold the line but now our losses are mounting the throne
I can't help but feel an imposter
Gold dust flaking off of the plaster
Cosmic horror wholesale disaster
Straining will make me drown only faster
Who knew that Hell is also a place on Earth?
The pantheon stands empty again
Can't figure out where the fuck to begin
The stars are swept and the ocean's poured
Braved this war til you said that our losses are mounting the throne
(yeah)
This chalk outline is a latent God beast
Titanic snake that swallows skies
Everywhere and all the time at the scene of the crime
We've reconstructed the temple but we'll never fill it with prayer
We've reconstructed the temple
but we'll never fill it with prayer or deprive its old ghosts of their haunts
Let the credits and so will their heads
Hell, it tastes like winter, like it did in
February 3rd, 1959 was on January 17th, 2022
I swear
February 3rd, 1959 was on January 17th, 2022
I swear
We've reconstructed the temple but we'll never fill it with prayer
Its one love versus a million bombs dropped
Come rain-drenched, come sun-starved in thick, sulfurous. fumes
Empty Hell, book’s open next month
Carve me no hopeful phrase
Dead meat hung by the tail
Carve me no hopeful phrase
Dead meat no more, come hang me up
Oceans, tailing ponds, and cesspools
Loving is this game of strict rules, written in blood, inscribed across the cave walls
I was dug up where the willows grow
I woke there time and time again
Crawl back, under barbed wire, into the sea
Dissected rats borne of dissected rats
Don’t be so glum, don’t be morose
I put my money on the pale horse
(Carve me no hopeful phrase)
The casket’s closed so throw your rose
Did you see yourself in place of that corpse?
(Dead meat hung by the tail)
If it brings me closer to God above, oh I’ll get fucked up on the blood of Jesus every night until the day I die
I'll be by sooner or later
like blood out from an elevator
return your borrowed time
at the checkout desk
You got til 10 am
Death is not a thief; he’s a creditor
Death is not a thief but a creditor
We owe so much more
Death is not a thief; he’as a creditor
Death is not a thief, and we are so in debt
credits
released January 17, 2023
Engineering, mixing, and mastering by Vince Soliveri
Written by Sea Noto
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