1. |
Black Lungs
03:15
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Black lungs and skeleton hands are trophies of the white collar wearing man. Keep the kids fed. Keep the roof overhead. Pay this month’s rent. Fill your house with shit. Lighten up. At least someday you’ll die. Worms will eat out your eyes. Did you enjoy your life? Or will death be par for the course? Or should I say corpse? Being dead will only beat the dead horse. Life lived in a cubicle casket isn’t life at all. At your boss’s beck and call, how’d you survive this long? Lighten up. At least someday you’ll die. Worms will eat out your eyes. Did you enjoy your life as a corporate slave in your white collar grave? The dirt you’re buried in is the money you’re paid. Life’s so long? You’re dead wrong. We’re here and we’re gone. Life’s so long? You’re dead wrong. The rat race can’t be won. You’re dead wrong. You’re dead.
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2. |
Modern Corpse
03:40
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My body’s been broken by this concrete machine. Too many words spoken. Too much time on my knees. I awake to find the door left open. I walk until the trees consume me. In the dark no words are spoken. The wind whispers secrets to me. Let me outside. I need the sky. The forest calls my name. And I’ll be fine. Soon the vines will drag my broken body away. Rot my clothes. I’ll decompose in the meadow. Let me grow a green beard of moss, consumed by paradise lost. No one to talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. I’m exhausted. Give me absolute silence. Give me Thoreau in Walden. Let me sleep in the earth that I fall in.
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Slow Collapse Los Angeles, California
LA indie/punk band est. 2012. Four weirdos havin' a good time.
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