1. |
Gorge
02:54
|
|||
|
I am choking on spit and venom, turning blue in the face.
Can you stomach this?
Eyes bulged and bloodshot.
I need more.
Choke me to death.
Please, I am starving.
The ravenous beast, picking bones for rotting meat.
I carve into old wounds and open up all the old damage.
I am all the things you say that you are not, but who gives a fuck when it feels too good to stop?
|
||||
2. |
Pig
01:27
|
|||
|
The farmer's daughter.
The neighbors wife.
While they sleep inside.
Can you smell it on me?
Stinking, putrid, ripe.
Instant gratification pumped through swollen veins.
I know that I should hate myself but I don't feel a thing.
I only want what I can't have.
We only want what we can't have.
|
||||
3. |
Predatory/Prey
04:06
|
|||
|
She sits on the bed with her head in her hands.
A sinking stomach that follows the gaze into the empty pit.
Falling.
Flailing.
Gasping for air.
You won't be anywhere but here.
Open your arms to the predatory hunt for flesh.
Raw and pulsing.
Warm and fresh.
Birth.
Sex.
Death.
I am nothing if not primal.
|
||||
4. |
Defeatist
05:42
|
|||
|
All I see are strands of grey.
All I hear are creaking bones hidden by folds and wrinkles.
It won't be long.
Old skin.
Worn thin.
The slow march towards the inevitable end.
Years go by.
Years gone by.
Years go by and I'm still fighting those old eyes in the mirror.
(I'm still waiting here after all these years, staring into glass and silver.)
Those tired eyes of the fighter.
(I had always thought I'd be dead by now, I'm nothing but momentum.)
It won't be long until I'm throwing in the towel.
|
||||
5. |
Execrable
04:30
|
|||
|
I'm not who I wish I "were", just old and stupid.
Not witty or clever.
A waste of time, wasted money, waste of space.
I'm wasted on pipe dreams, nostalgia shit-faced.
I'm not who I wish I were.
I'm just a cynic, devoid of honor, of purpose, of truth, of worth.
I'm wasted on pipe dreams, wasted on youth.
Save your soul.
Mine's rotten and cold.
You were right to say I'm selfish.
You were right to say I'm cruel.
You were right to say I'm greedy.
You were right and I'm a fool.
You were right to call me bastard.
You were right and I was wrong.
You were right to want to leave.
You were right all along.
Oh, the holy altar of self-destruction, I'll carry your word to my grave.
'Cause I am a preacher and I am a priest.
I'll spend the rest of my life on my knees.
|
||||
6. |
Perception
04:57
|
|||
|
Take the blade and push it into my skin.
Cut through muscle, crack through bone.
What do you see?
A liars tongue.
A pair of lungs that heave and struggle to breathe.
A filthy heart, black with age.
A lack of conscience.
Nothing worthy to save.
A tired pulse, tired and old.
Just rotting and waiting to die.
I'm sorry for wasting your time.
What do you see?
What do you save?
What's worth it to you? What's in it for you?
Bring on the flood.
And when the flood comes, I'll drink my fill.
I'll drink until I'm bloated.
I'll drink until I burst.
Let it come, let it come.
|
||||
7. |
Fin
03:33
|
|||
|
Life will go on even after you're dead.
Three months of mourning, a lifetime of dread.
Now a frail, withered husk, that's all that's left.
You're gone and you'll never come back.
Just a futile climb to be stripped down and fucked.
No tears to hold back.
No shaking hands.
Just cold and abrupt.
No wavering guilt.
Just a bed and some pills.
Just a yawn and a shrug, nonchalance at best.
No fire, no light, no rebirth or journey.
Just death.
|
||||
8. |
Apparition
04:53
|
|||
|
You say you're starving?
Well, I'm starving too.
You can't find sustenance in naproxen, can't use nyquil as food.
But you live and you fight with the impending doom of feet that won't work, a back that won't bend.
Cuts that won't mend because you just rip off the scabs and let them bleed out.
A fat man's disease and some half broken teeth.
Who cares?
"This too shall pass", like a kidney stone from the piss-hole of a human shell.
Just jagged as it rips and tears.
A pathetic and desperate attempt to show that I'm still alive.
Apathetic and contagiously foul in my moods just to remind myself that I'm not a ghost.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
|
||||
9. |
Fatalist
04:45
|
|||
|
I'm just waiting for something to give, something to push back and break.
Out of luck, out of choices.
I'm out of luck and out of my mind.
Let the salt fall into wide open wounds.
Anything you ask me to do, I do.
So what am I waiting for?
Throw the torch and burn the bridge.
|
||||
10. |
Rapture
06:18
|
|||
|
Hey pot, meet kettle, in all her lovely shades of black.
Watch her strip off her clothes, and see her dance without grace or tact.
Hear her sing of:
Wasted opportunities and irrelevant tissue, a tired refrain of lessons learned and ruptured veins.
Off key musings of ginsu knives, sour notes of colorful cocktails of doxylamine.
I will sing her song.
|
||||
Jorne Frostburg, Maryland
If you like Jorne, you may also like:
Misanthropic hardcore punk from NYC that galvanizes jagged guitars and dense production towards satisfying mayhem.
go to album
Artificial Bouquet
by Frail Body
New on Deathwish, explosive screamo from this Illinois band, full of scalding riffs and searing vocals.
go to album
We'll Hide Away: Complete Recordings 1993-1995
by Grain
In the early ’90s, the Ohio band were champions of boundary-crossing Midwestern hardcore.
go to album
Derramar | Querer | Borrar
by MASSA NERA
Massa Nera makes '00s-style screamo that strikes a balance between delicate intricacy and heavy passion.
go to album
Ataraxy
by Sadness / To Be Gentle
Atmospheric black metal band Sadness and experimental screamo band To Be Gentle channel intense emotions on this split single.
go to album
Eve Beeker of screamo band To Be Gentle stretches her solo work in new experimental directions on this EP, a meditation on gender & healing.
go to album
New York band Closer is captures the sensation of overwhelming emotions with propulsive and tuneful post-hardcore.
go to album
