1. |
The Sand Slips
02:46
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The breath of life is the entrance to death. Fatality brands all organisms before conception. Just another piece of the cycle. Another crushed soul trapped within. My body is my sepulcher. Sand slips with time. Time kills the flesh on our souls.
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2. |
A Cursed Role
04:34
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Oscillations spasm littering the display. A specimens scalp and chest lanced with probes. Technology keeps them alive whilst dead inside. The harbinger of death is summoned. It's shadow breaks through the window... Flesh is locked outside. The claws of death remains calm. Ready to grab the next victim. A stalker, immortal and entitled. A cursed role latched to its fate.
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3. |
Perpetual Animation
02:13
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Decades of hatred thrusted into every single blow. Perpetual animation, rigor mortis, he only wanted death. Syringe full of solution to reanimate applied to a suicide victim. The subject of reanimation found its creator. Revenge becomes an empty shell when sought after for so many years. Perpetual animation, rigor mortis, he only wanted death.
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4. |
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The knife cuts through the skin. Open the veins. Blood drains out and empties the vessel. It's life leaves the body and empty sack. One less human to trash this place. Embrace these grim decisions. The population resets. A rope wrapped around the neck. Connect to the rafters. Feet suspending in the air. Oxygen leaves the lungs and empty sack. One less human to waste the air. Embrace these grim decisions. The population resets. Homo sapiens a ravenous species. Claws rip through the womb in which it was birthed
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5. |
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Blinding light bludgeons my retinas as I enter this god forsaken room. The air is filled with a rancid scent of death and ammonia. The floor is littered with rats. Feeding on the organs of the deceased. Somewhere a hunter pursues. The cock of a gun echoes down the hallway. A visceral notion of death awakens my mind. Escape or be hunted. A sharp crack rings out and sparks hit the wall by my head. More cracks follow. Unbearable pain stings my ribs and waste. I lie on the ground unable to move while vision fades out. Blinding light bludgeons my retinas as I wake from this dream.
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6. |
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A crimson fluid runs down his face. Lacerations gouged beyond repair. The door once locked shut bears a hole. No longer sheltered from this chaos. His vision cuts through and opaque brightness. Dozens of people flood the room. They pillage the bunker. A sharp snap cracks his spine. All becomes white...
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7. |
The Resurrectionist
02:36
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Sharp cold steel breaks the soil. Shovels toss the dirt aside revealing a mortsafe free casket. Crowbars snap the lid open. 6 feet down, 2 days dead, the body has served its purpose. In the name of science the resurrectionist will exhume the flesh of the dead. Knowing the risk, fiscal measures appropriate their task. 6 feet down, 2 days dead, the body has served its purpose...
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8. |
Reflections Of Despair
03:48
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Chromium only reflects despair. Grime and rot litters this establishment. Flies thrive while mining the rotting flesh. Power grids have failed the old and weak. Life support machines rendered useless. Death is working overtime to claim these lives. The final exit is welcomed with open arms. Days of being surrounded by festering bodies. He takes one last breath before his lungs collapse. Relief overwhelms the visceral experience of death...
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Leather Glove Oakland, California
A sonic tapestry of pure oppression. If life is the waiting room to hell, then this is the bellowing sounds encapsulating every molecule in the room. Conceptualized by Greg Wilkinson - Earhammer studios in Oakland (Brainoil, Graves at sea, Necrot, Vastum, Lecherous Gaze, Iron Lung, High on Fire), currently in brainoil and deathgrave, former member of laudanum, graves at sea, and many more ... more
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Eroded Corridors of Unbeing
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Featuring members of Noothgrush, Graves at Sea, and more, the Oakland metal band juxtapose cavernous doom with spaced-out shoegaze.
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Excretion of Mortality
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The best of Bolt Thrower and Carcass mashed into a sloppy dump. Feck yes!
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