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lyrics
Chewing on razors, let them slip between your teeth.
(We walk with our backs to the son)
Slice your gums, bite your tongue, don't speak another word.
Her fingers gripped around your throat, breathe her in as your blood runs cold. "Oh Hate, my familiar friend". Her lips pressed to yours as your vision turns red.
Relapse into terrified hatred without purpose.
The Alberta crushers hold tight to their rank, astral-gazing grindcore, staring down abyssal torment all the while. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 31, 2020