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Fissure

by FISSURE

/
1.
Minds, they rot away, cooking every single cell Encased in heedless static Eyes they sink into a dark oblivion It repeats “Stop”. Let the flashes of light drip out and seep into every pore . "This is just a test" If you scrape your worthless carcass up, you might fail.
2.
Left-Footed 00:53
“Sorry” can only be said 20 times before it loses its meaning I've only said it a thousand times, but who's counting? I’ve inhaled razor blades exhaled two cents but who's counting? All words are losing meaning as does the taste in my mouth.
3.
Are you living for yourself or are you trying your hardest to fulfill everyone’s ridiculous expectations? Who gives two shits about how much your shit stinks? Subliminal whispers up in the sky. The clouds are talking to you. A lifeless drone programmed to obey. Bend over and say "Yes sir, may I have another?"
4.
Untitled 00:43
The mask you wear is as fake as your smile. Trampling over heads, fuck whoever’s in front of you. Anything to get ahead. Stabbing people in the back isn’t the latest craze, but you sure act like it. Your mask is cracked. You’re full of shit.
5.
Smiles have long gone. Life has become this stale, used up film reel, ready to burn. Burn. See if I care. I can't stand the same painted faces chipping away with time save your lifeless stares for when you're dead. The redundancy has drained every single drop of my essence. You'll see a smile on my face when you see me fly or die.
6.
The stone was cast Broken through your front teeth Blood stained face Deviated jaw There are no take backs in this life I spy a fib on the broken scab You cant take it back Time moves slowly when you watch your shadow running away from you
7.
Sad to say that I've lost all faith in all decree The lure was casted out No money? Promises. No worries. Promises . The just hand of the law rules for the righteous Strikes the wicked down They say that justice is blind folded No money? Pain? Live with it! Better off dead Better off the blood stain on the streets. Better off dead Justice: spelled out in dollar signs . Here's two middle fingers. Go fuck yourselves
8.
G.I.M.P. 01:10
Sharp pain in my stomach. It’s been hurting for the last couple of weeks. I can’t function properly, I can’t even stand. Probe me, cut me, nuke my brain. Too many numbers. I can’t even count that high. Fuck it, I'll deal with it. Fuck it, I'll just walk it off. You’d probably bleed me to death without even cutting me.

credits

released August 27, 2013

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FISSURE California

Southern California Hardcore Punk/Powerviolence

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