To vanish into the hills. Past the crags where lesser gods fear to tread. Climbing. Winter whips his wrinkled face. Upward. Spinning heights atop the peak. To the wormhole. It spirals down into the darkness where she sleeps, and at the base of this evil well, her distant spawn stands and thinks his last sane thought as he pulls his broadsword from its sheath and plunges into the wintry depths, never again to be seen. In free fall. The winter sky fades away. Enveloping blackness takes its place. Swallows all. For three days a sense of weight is no longer felt and aging bones begin to ache from the cold. The sound of beating wings surround the elder hybrid, who with his blade swings. Blood erupts to fill the air. A cloud of sickly mist down in the abyss. She wriggles and writhes. Rots the world from inside. He steps forth. One battle to fight. One redemption for a short painful life. Sleep under red stars.
a few of the peoples who played on these things featured here play on this with a buncha other wicked cool folk, and it's generally awesome punk music various
Scratchy DIY punk from Philadelphia with an impeccable list of inspirations. Think Crass, Flux of Pink Indians, This Heat, and Chronophage. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 22, 2023