I got blood on your white,
silk sheets
Redder than your blushing cheeks after you hurt me
Clearer than your eyes that never conceal
I wish you knew how to bury yourself
In fertile, garden soil
Hidden from inner bloodhounds
Whose snouts andteeth
Do the bidding of your selfpity
Your inward disdain
Serves as a treat to your outward contempt
All hatred is self hatred
As you graft your portrait onto the other
To obscure
Who you refuse to understand
You'd gnaw your arm off before you'd lend ahand
I hope the weight of a thousand confrontations
Crushes me into the perfect boyfriend
Change me from a passive observer
To an active enabler
I still hold the shears that freed me from my lips
I can't recite the sensations that accompanied the dizzying descent
Into our quiet oblivion
Quite possibly the most full-on album I've ever listened to. Intense, and then some. 'Digital Tarpit' could describe both the track and the whole album: high-pitched guitar squeals that make your fillings itch coupled with merciless, suffocating heaviness. The Avenell-esque vocals top it off perfectly.
Brilliant - punishing, but brilliant. jim_fuego