weep, father, our son is dead
weep, mother, and we're wailing
gnash, your teeth, it's stifling
try, to breathe, hollow sobbing
wake, the dead, for seven nights
spit, and sigh, praying to him
spit, and sigh, for seven nights
take, the dead, to mass that night
now, i need you
now, i need you
god, i need you
please, i need you, to raise our son
now, we lay hands
swoon, and praise him
shake, and cry out
tongue, bit serpent, hold faith and now
we wait
yes now, we wait
unto the miracle
now, a light, so unreal
hot, to hold, can you feel
summer wind, like a fire
prairie hiss, a dust devil
look, a twitch, he's moving
twitch, and heave, lurching upward
knee, buckle, like a puppet
strange, and unsure, of its old life
strange, and unsure, in its new life
stand-ing upright, with a strange voice
some-thing like speech, but a hissing
sound, like wings, and his fell tongue wretch
and now behold, and now behold
and now behold, and now behold
stand, before you
arms, high and true
wind, under wing
my, children scream
wake, of locust
ga-ther my dust
eat, of my slime
reig-ning sublime
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If you like your post-punk pissed off, wound up, and kind of weird, this Cleveland group's glitchy anti-work opus might just be for you. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 20, 2024