LIVE GALLERY: Believe in Nothing with Bodach, Rogue Limb and Lindow Moss at The Chapel, Nottingham
Fickle bones vibrate, in tender mortal skin, marrow boils, from the pressure within.
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Fickle bones vibrate, in tender mortal skin, marrow boils, from the pressure within.
Give me your hands, I never knew, what this feeling would do to you.
Clouds of misery, there’s something in the air, These scars are shallow, Dip your hands into the well to see through this pain.
Under the gun and you’ve hit the wall.
How do you swallow the feeling of impending doom?
Taste my blade you motherfucker.
You’re just a fucking waste of space.
Our hearts grow cold, toxic seeds all around.
We live in spite of you.