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lyrics

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.

credits

from Apophallacy, released April 8, 2017

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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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