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.
Fickle bones vibrate, in tender mortal skin, marrow boils, from the pressure within.
Clouds of misery, there’s something in the air, These scars are shallow, Dip your hands into the well to see through this pain.
Hold onto each other, because there is beauty in this being over.
Taste my blade you motherfucker.
Keep your hand held high and you’ll find out why; that this raised fist ain’t afraid to fly.
You’re just a fucking waste of space.
Our hearts grow cold, toxic seeds all around.
We live in spite of you.
These shoulders are too weak to carry any more.