Pretty sure I'm searching
For a cure
Beneath this town
Beneath this grave
No one knows how I feel
What I carry on my mind
It takes on
With an inhuman will
I feel the worm inside
Corrupting
The last pieces of my mind
I can't be real
Swallow the anger
Chase the pain away
Stop all the wind
To stop the storm
Moving backwards
I recall myself again
I fed her way too much
I'm the dead-end host
Genocide
A genocide is calling us
The Mother of Machines
Order
And we blindly follow
Her commands
Blindly follow
Her commands
Genocide
I'm the dead-end host
supported by 13 fans who also own “Long Coma Slow”
Utterly hypnotic, heavy, and ethereal beyond what I can aptly describe here. It'll take you careening down a kaleidoscopic wormhole of audial bliss. cynothoglys
supported by 12 fans who also own “Long Coma Slow”
Good sound for a road trip !!! The stoner rock atmosphere as relaxed as driving on the open road while the wind blows your head clear through the car window. Stephan