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Apophallacy

by Bleach For The Stars

/
1.
Beat 04:42
We entered, fleeing entropy and bile Loathing the lazy tremor of the streets. Though night was never mine I stayed a while. Companions of decay and stiff denial. In binary opposition but discreet. We entered, fleeing entropy and bile. Between the softly vacant and the vile A grunt of bodies gnawing on the heat. Though night was never mine I stayed a while. His hagfish eyes soon knotted round her smile To rip out conversation's rancid meat. We entered, fleeing entropy and bile. A mould of minds but each with toxic style. Me for the drained glass, him to hunt, kill, eat. Though night was never mine I stayed a while. To fix on each face with such perfect guile, A gift I'd bore with diamond to defeat. We entered, fleeing entropy and bile. Some throbbing fear has dragged us down these miles, Seeping through hearts we hammer with conceit. Though night was never mine I stayed a while. No single action could be classed worthwhile Though all our world remains and will repeat. We entered, fleeing entropy and bile. Though night was never mine I stayed a while.
2.
Cast 04:59
In your tanned eyes I see the stars burn out. I watched a rain that could not speak or shape The hills of your cold country, cause you any doubt Whether the sky was cheap glass born to break Against your face. You gnaw at the hard dust Between days spent in the dreaming of nails Strike with their acid howls for common rust. For you all kingdoms came, all kingdoms failed And their shadows you walk, cutting your feet To the tremble of a tied moon. To hate And to the slow, sad rip of wounded sleep And a dawn splintered to sticks as you wake Clasping for change in pockets full of holes. Through them your head pours down. I cannot dress You with a single thought. And no bright shoals Of wild warmth swim inside. At all ends less Being in your brief, strung, mercantile light Falling in ditches, dumb to blossom, bare. Your stream champions ice and bleaker night And worst of all I know you could not care.
3.
Surface 03:31
I itch for laughter in the summer cold And tear through night, and chop out chunks of rain To furnish my mind's attics. Sour distain. Not for the loss of concept, nor the old Shiver that pulls down worlds. Merely the silt Clawing through arteries of wasted sleep. The buzz of metal when I try to weep. As if the bloom of light itself could wilt And fall back into that abyssal sea That spawns such thought. The will to waste a day Even a hacking second's shadow-play On being all I once could almost be. I will preserve these memories in tar. I will encase myself in harder time And guzzle stale words like the cheapest wine And, bending backwards, vomit on the stars.
4.
You never told me and I never knew And even now you paint the roses blue. A crease of shadows cracks our crystal trees Wafting the musk of burning libraries. Those almost-honest maps of truth you drew Evaporating like the morning dew. Uncharted voices in a pale parade Summoned the dogs to taint her charmed cascade. Filling her head with locusts dropped a price Annihilation’s garbage stitched with ice. A summer sun’s necessity will fade – The greatest lie to light this masquerade. Over the backs of stars the slow blames creep Yearning for time to treasure or to weep.
5.
Still 04:12
Another rip of afternoon remolds In units of a crass, ceramic cold. All brain song bent by this euphoric waste This serpent calm that pisses on our taste And peels apart our tamed tears. We grow old. These filthy eyes design their cheap belief And stop to crack down time with dirty teeth. We are the pebbles flung by winter waves. We thrust our scars through skinny light. Our graves Lie in the mire of nothing underneath. With minds sculpted from spit, we planted thorns In hope of roses. Still, we were not warm. We are the moths around a dying star. Our blood is fallen leaves and screaming tar And that is all, and all our dreams are torn.
6.
Revelation 04:14
The heart: an ashtray; rusting faith The grind of pills resounding in the dark Between sad galaxies and stained remarks. A gash of air, a glimpse that starts to chafe Where stones cry out for shadows, and the trees Bray to the beat of blister and disease. Remain disdainful, shoddy effigies. The skin: tattooed with tension, burnished Blind. Mindful of the ragged flame of time The gutted, hollow gasp of the sublime. A loose decay, cracked black traffic furnished With fear, melodies of dust on desperate keys. The slow, select despair as feelings freeze Or drop uneasy warmth with equal ease. The sun: a used coin stamped with shine, Resigned to show a sprawl of sacred tears. A dismal bliss devalues the divine Water reverting softly back from wine.
7.
Wracked 03:10
With fired Summers I will toast the year. Their rent husks lie there neutered on the ground In failed exuberance; and all around The thought of shapeless heads reduce to tears. With evening comes the scratching of our fear The subtlety ripped out in lumps of sound. To clench this knowledge we ourselves are bound And herded into dusk and all that’s drear. The trunk of human time stretched tight within Does little for the paucity of dream. A vital mouth is struck beneath our skin And all the world is echoes of its scream.
8.
Dazzle 04:44
It is no recompense to undermine The conscience, or to mediate with tar. Better to blaze relief in my design Out of the furrow towards the light of stars. This present, handed out to fit my face Could not be worn without the growth of pride And would not turn my world, had I no grace To oversee that warmth and stir inside. To live with order, always, never blindly I dream for those who would respond, and kindly. To live with order, always, never blindly I dream for those who would respond, and kindly.
9.
Hitch 04:16
The wrinkled room sunk on a spoon Wired walls are gristle ground apart Tarring the hapless howl of each heartbeat Declared impairment scarred onto folding stars. Homeless from hope where only the dope is sweet Flexing dementia tension like treacle strewn. Vein drained regret grafted to shafts of cigarettes Stale inhalation face staple pale from pins. Wraith gaze tracing through pages of waste Clock rotted time torn for another taste. Black tracks tripping across scabbed skin Lying limp dim crippled in fetters of sweat. Pools of ridicule chemical blemish bound Thrusting through rubbish to shred with sickle sound.
10.
Waver 07:25

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Morose, acerbic poetry set to old-school EBM and Industrial music.

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released April 8, 2017

All music, words and art: Ben Power
All tracks mastered by J. Stillings at Steel Hook Audio Mastering

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Bleach For The Stars Harwich, UK

Experimental multi-genre concept albums, all with a prominent Industrial edge.

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