tonight we dance
upon the grave of the old ways
and we sip from the cup of infinite future
until it is empty.
and when there is no memory
we will take back our names.
as this body rots from the bones to the skin
we feed on thoughts of it's coming death
and resurrection
as a coward's god.
imaginary lines
draw out the face
withered, anodyne
with endless appetite
so devoid of faith in itself
and ruling from an iron throne of grief.
praying hands never made anything
that we would recognize as divine.
The band's debut is full of whiskey-burned growls and maniacal high shrieks, not surprising for a group of Detroit metal vets. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 22, 2016