1. |
Divine Invocation
04:29
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I remain the mold shambler
Yet only one of many agitators
We converge on the pagoda
Firmly clutching our offerings, tribute to
Our Prophet
His cold, unwavering gaze shall enlighten
A further purpose to our consumption
His gnarling fingers give us direction
Obey, await his final will
Centuries as willing servants
We grow anxious for his prophecy
On this day, currents rage through
The remains of our black nerves
Anticipating his brutal call
Will he finally bless us?
Cull the most putrid pittance with vehemence
A savage howl
Rings across the expanse of the realm
That which we graciously inhabit by his decree
We have been summoned for his ultimate sermon
Letting out our guttural replies
We begin to ascend to the stone plateau
Where we adhere to his command
Fold your raw hands and pray
He begins to write our future history
But we must be reminded of his pilgrimage
A summation: ascension from paucity
We will bask in all the glory
Of his righteous exaltation
Grovel face down in the dirt
Fold your raw hands
Pray
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2. |
Aborted Genesis
02:02
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I was born and gored with nails
Firmly affixed to stone post-forced extraction
I swore retribution
I became pure malignance
But my hatred was misdirected
It was not my abusers I should target
The sin is deeper, shrewdly embedded
The actualized purpose for my existence
Purge the ingrained dogma
A lithely hand will not suffice
Their perversions must be violently removed
Torn open, devoured fiercely by my flock
And I have witnessed the pain that you have wrought
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3. |
Chromatic Distortion
04:45
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He commends our commitment to his ideal
We retort with a chorus of death rattles
As a token of his immense gratitude
He invites the most sacred of rituals
Enter now, his clergy of innermost rot
Freshly coated in filth from the great harvest
They bring forth the instrumental catalyst
Cultivated with fervor and lust
We must now partake
Psychogenic spores
Coursing through our veins
Unlock suppressed focus
We must give in
We must give in
We must give in
We must give in
We must give us all
I feel the hands of God caress
I feel the claws of Man dissect
The truth becomes clearer
With each moment in euphoric torture
Twisted language
Dividing the serpent’s tongue
My perspective
Shifting in and out of focus
Am I me?
Am I you? Am I me?
Am I the Prophet?
I peer through conjoined sets of eyes
Blind yet all-seeing beyond infinity
Reality shifts
Nauseatingly lurching
Forward at intervals
So unpredictable
One second or one year?
Unknown worming time
Passing through my bones
A massive cacophony of writhing limbs
Passively observed by condescending eyes
We do not acknowledge his disapproval
For we are too obsessed with the distortion
Bathe in the swarm
I collapse, exhausted, to the stone
Fulfillment, completion, washed ashore
Natural law has been brought to heel
Yet wisdom drifts slowly out of reach
We must still turn to our divine light
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4. |
Eucharist
01:10
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The time has come
Our time has come
Eat of the form
Drink of the gore
The time has come
Our time has come
Eat of the form
Drink of the gore
He blood-lets with leeches
Collect in the chalice
He peels with a stone edge
The communion begins
The time has come
Our time has come
Eat of the form
Drink of the gore
We listlessly await
Our turn with the relics
With nails clawing eager
Terminal sacrament
Indulge deeply, we will not run dry
His cruor, endless in supply
Sate overwhelming appetite
Our extreme hunger satisfied
A feast on the burial ground
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5. |
Nihilistic Prophecy
05:53
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A harsh silence falls like a cloud
We raise our limbs towards the heavens
Provide one last desperate prayer
In hopes he will bestow final truth
Fold your raw hands around your throat
Oh, the penance I would give
For one omen
Oh, the penance I would give
For one promise
Grind your teeth to dust, you heathens
Bless us
Rip your eyelids off, you heathens
Bless us
Gouge your entrails out, you heathens
Bless us
Crush your skull, abrupt, you heathens
Bless us
I am your servant
Pure, broken boor
We are your servants
Rage on, so guilty, so futile
Watch him convulse, frothing wildly
Bide, be blessed with his prophecy
Writhing ouroboros
A throne of burnt moss
The maw, wide open
Above extracted globes
Fulfilled totality
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Thrashing Mossdog Long Beach, California
APRIL EP
TARTARUS
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NEW EP EVERY MONTH
MOLD SHAMBLER TRILOGY - 3x MINIDISC OUT 5/5/18 VIA HOUSEWIFE RECORDS
southwiferecords.bandcamp.com/album/the-mold-shambler-trilogy-hwrs-002
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