1. |
Ross The Boss
02:18
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My name is computer. I worship the #. You are the creator. I work while you slumber. I'm known as metal horse. Refer to me as metal horse. In the laboratory. My circuits are bending. Taking the bait. You took all my glory. You can have your cocaine. I'm pumping nitrous. Metal made mind. Bridge the Acheron. Echoes in time. We have until dawn.
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2. |
Pilgrim
02:19
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In the mist filled garden, moving forms not a sound. There's a bad bouquet around you. It's now a parking lot in Chinatown. In defeat or of Eden. Red curtains are drawn for you to have your privacy you derelict fraternity. In the blackened mold sign. Open your executive billfold. You must obey. Do you know my name I've had a few. If you'd like I could tell them to you. I was known as a pilgrim. This ain't the Chinatown I once knew.
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3. |
Phantom Glue
04:29
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We don't see the slime lords' seal winding down the backs. Below, Beyond, the wax demon is real. Invoking. The nightmare is here. The beast I alone can wield. Primordial ooze we have allowed to congeal. Invoking.
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4. |
Gog & Magog
03:45
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On the woodland threshold, in twilight could be seen. Heard behind the warning wind. Felt within a dream. Then the thundering footsteps, a heathen battery. A cry from the mountain "Gog and Magog!" A trumpet call to thee. Fucking wizard calls your name. We will show you the disease. Now you're riding hell for leather, in the kingdom of the sea. Join the battle brothers and raise your fist my friend, at the rotting lord fortillion year. The Gods have come again. Denizens of believers wander this burial ground. In the wake of the inferno lay the carcass hallowed hound.
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5. |
Black Tar
04:36
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The air. Ashore. Now harken the prophet, elected to kick the face. With no fools to stop it. We're fucked up and gone with no trace. Ain't got to appease. The profit sees death or disease. If by the swords of invaders our countrymen are beset, let our foe drip blood...One who in shackles did rend the attackers tongue, sparked eight savage battles. Usurpers will be overrun. The prophet foresees. We draw death in death or disease.
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6. |
Brainbow
03:14
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Choose up your localized faction. Victory at Samothrace. You're beholding the black star on your face. Pyrotechnic smoke in air. Gets lost in the fog there. Correlate. Ghettoize. Sterile heart. We turned'em out. Hippies on fucking dust. We turned'em inside out like the rest. Survived countless zombie attacks, wizards over the sea, but this night frightens the shit out of me.
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7. |
Scabman
06:21
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I have woken missing scabs. Witches took them in the night. I am within the Octagon. Directly to subconscious. Belial in the eaves. Surface. Raw flesh. Protect. Collect. Belial in the eaves. Wax will not save you.
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Phantom Glue Boston, Massachusetts
An avalanche of distortion, psychedelicized occult coloured howlings and roars on early colonial america colliding with mythology and surrealistic nightmares. Phantom Glue have tapped a sunken Lovecraftian vein and extracted a uniquely rotten drek of something you inexplicably know but can't name. ... more
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