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The crack of whip sears quick to bone.
Lowered eyes cast on magnificence see hues dulled by servitude.
It's lost on those put down on shattered knee.
Bent double by the weight of a home, worn as the tapestries sewn.
None depicting such unfamiliar scenes that veer from the palace kitchens and third world factories to the minimum wage of a ravaged economy and these old boots that were made for falling apart at the seams.
Wasting countless days mourning free time, wishing away barely early starts we navigate a world apart.
Not to survive, or labour born of plight, but to get by.
Running the human race, refusing to finish last once.
Do they laugh themselves all the way to bed chamber?
He lies on a throw, lost in the restless sleeps you and I know.
Breathing steadily relief comes and goes but not without fault.
On his own, he shares his dreams with an entire world.
There's a bloodied hand afoot and it's suffocating.
The other's clenched in an iron fist, cut-throat capital extremism suckerpunching the exploited and bruised.
I'd heard that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.
But then wasn't that in a Sci-Fi?
And to think I've wasted countless days wishing anything away.
You feed on those who feed you and watch while all around you starve.
supported by 11 fans who also own “Fantastic Massacre”
I love it. Have to agree with still bummed: this packs an emotional punch but rocks hard. I've played this whole album repeatedly over the last week which is unusual for me. Exhilarating, poignant, intelligent, melodic. Robin Ward
On their debut record, the London hardcore upstarts cross-up mosh-ready fare with melancholic ambient passages, weeping guitars, and virtuosic vocal harmonies, but its romantic veneer is much more complicated than it seems. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jan 30, 2019