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1. |
Balance Wheel
03:13
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My silver palace... rubies make its capstones, steel coil and two hands beneath a crystal dome. I've traveled foreign lands, searched for a destination. This is an atrocity; it has its complications -- the balance wheel.
I've roamed through a fog the color of jaundice, cut down in my prime, this timepiece, my only relic. In futility I seek my home, but there is only this patrol. Shore only breaks on this gaulish field.
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2. |
Reaching Up
05:09
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IS THERE ANYBODY HERE? IS THERE ANYBODY HERE? IS THERE ANYBODY HERE?
Asking questions, fingers crawl across the board. I'll always be here, behind the door. The seasons change; the tides will rise and fall. I've always been here, behind the walls.
RIGHT TO THE Z LEFT TO THE O RIGHT TO THE Z LEFT TO THE O RIGHT TO THE Z LEFT TO THE O RIGHT TO THE Z LEFT TO THE O
What's that noise coming from the ground floor? Start the tape. Everyone concentrate more. I'm up here looking down, over the candles. I never made a sound. I've always been here, reaching up from below the board, watching hands in pairs answer questions which should be ignored.
I bide my time. Time is all I have, and memories to catch and lose, and the occasional soul to latch onto.
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3. |
Tin Type
04:18
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Clutching your knees by the fire, I knew it would never be the same, your image, etched in tin, and a lock of your hair in a ring. We are not afraid. Let the darkness consume us.
A mantle abandoned, but still adorned with mementos and charms, my photograph next to yours.
Soil between us, thawing for spring, as we contemplate the void, together again. Seize the day.
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4. |
Shreveport Blues
05:30
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Something's rotten in Shreveport. All the locals are getting restless. The unlucky few who go out at night are found in the morning, lying breathless, like the college girl, home for the weekend, who never knew she'd meet a gruesome end. The cops are baffled: "This is some sick shit going down." "Call in the weird inspector from the ugly side of town."
Like a shadow at a graveside, he appeared, leather raincoat slick from the city fog. He doesn't talk much, and when he does, he's got a voice like a frog or a dog or a hair-trap clog.
"TWO FOUND DEAD IN A DUMPSTER. ANOTHER IN THE TRUNK OF THE SHERIFF'S CRUISER." "Whoever's pulling this is one hell of a bruiser."
This is the hand that penned this confession, and this is the hand that washed it free of sin, and this is the hand I took her neck in, and this is the hand that pushed the knife through her skin. I am that inspector. I am that fiend. I am that everything in between. We walk at night. We stalk our prey. We are only human... by day.
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5. |
Through the Veil
03:37
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A great cloud sets in, smell of thyme and ice. All those sons of sin march in grand formation, like rats in a dream, capturing the wooden prince. I fell to earth.
Witness the black of day, all warmth set sail, solitude and thoughts and anger through the veil.
A hide across the floor, frosted spines of urchins a paler shade than game prior to our reunion. Given its new place, no fire will breathe in this old hearth.
I can feel your weight, ever so softly, through a fathom of soil, I wake. The pallor of my home, now gone to black. To slumber is to live in this frozen place.
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6. |
Spirits for the Spirit
03:39
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This bottle's for ether, and this one for ethyl -- grain grown in the pasture, herbs on the bank by the still water, from the dark of the cabinet of the ash of the swamp, spirits for the spirit, for the spirit in want: a distilled essence of a pastoral scene. The dead only live when the dead only dream.
Melissa for her balmy oil, Artemisia for her bite, sweet Fennel for her festivity, Anise for posterity, from the dark of the cabinet to the ash in the swamp, spirits for the spirit for the spirit in want: a distilled essence of a pastoral scene. The dead only live when the dead only dream.
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7. |
Blood on the Wall
05:23
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These being dead, then dead I must be. I am here forever: earth of the garden, stones of the brook, dust in the hall, blood on the wall...
Shout enough to make them see THIS HOUSE BELONGS TO ME, written in blood on the wall. Many came, evicted them all. Every stick, every stone, every brick, every bone, write it in blood, so clearly: THIS HOUSE BELONGS TO ME.
I have a distinct feeling it was not always like this. I sat alone by the fire, now gone to embers. I cannot ignore my home now invaded. Hope they find what they're looking for.
Floating up to shafts of light from an upstairs window, time to make my presence known, this intrusion will not be overlooked. I am bones in earth. I will be alone.
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Atrocity and the Complications Lexington, Kentucky
Born in Lexington Kentucky in the year of our Lord 2014.
Jo Complication: vocals, guitar,
writer, composer, producer.
Kryptina: back up vocals, keyboard
Luci IV: guitar, e-bow, backup vocals
Mars: bass
The Atrocity: drums and synth
... more
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