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Carnal Sect CS

by Whip Hand

supported by
Carrion Delux
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Carrion Delux It's punk, it's black, I want to drink beer and spill blood. Whip hand slays! Favorite track: Worn Throats.
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1.
Worn Throats 01:50
all I can say is I can’t live with this way, the whip hand beckons, I must obey. purged of action, purged of thought. born from factions, born from Lot. bile soothes a well worn throat.
2.
Temple Mount 01:50
throw me on your gilded grate, light the coals of misdirected hate. a selfish impulse weighing me down. a garish city ruled by hounds. burdened. broken. “terror, the human form divine” cheered on my lying swine. have no thoughts of their own, they’re all terrified of dying alone. burdened. broken. burning broken. if I live, or if I die if I live, or if I die all I am, is pain enshrined.
3.
disjointed, myalgic fuck. disappointed pharmatropic rut. it never heals, it never wanes afraid to feel. dysphoric chemical restraints. disillusioned, collapsed veins. it never heals, it never wanes afraid to feel. a slow electrocution coursing my veins.
4.
Convalesce 03:29
tired of trying, tired of dying. tired of clinics, tired of cynics. tired of waking up, tired of throwing up. tired of pharmacies, tired of insurance fees. tired. tired of you and me. tired.
5.
carnal security is a fucking facade temples to a fleeting god. numb myself to let other's close. must subvert, what you worship most. i'm a patient patient can't drown a desire that needs no air. carnal security is a fucking facade temples to a fleeting god. and i want to pray so fucking bad. but i have no faith and never have. i'm a patient patient in splendid isolation and i want to pray to your golden calves. but i have no faith and never have.
6.
the night burns freely as they walk with heads held high, and you can’t fuck a useless body. and you can’t slip a ring upon a midnight marriage, and you can’t drown a shame that doesn’t need to breathe. the wind howls by your ears, but it whispers strange words. a concrete mattress, floating sidewalks, a tomb outlined in chalk. the night burns freely as they walk with heads held high, and you can’t love a useless body. and you can’t slip a dress upon a midnight marriage and you can’t drown a shame that doesn’t need to breathe. the wind howl’s by your ears, but it whisper’s strange words. a concrete mattress, floating sidewalks, a tomb outlined in chalk. a headless bull leading the herd, in a forced splendor. fetishized. mythologized. fuck all of you.
7.
suppress myself, suppress my thoughts with a blade so worn, can’t seem to cut through the knot. can’t say what I feel, can’t say what I must, behind my iron curtain the First Circle is Lust. the night of long knives, can’t hit the brakes won’t slow down, won’t let up. the night of long knives, and I can’t help but dive into a sea of blades held high. suppress myself, suppress my mind with a blade so worn can’t cut through the knot. can’t say what I feel, can’t say what I must behind my iron curtain the First Circle is Lust. can’t trust what I know, can’t trust what I think can’t trust what I know, can’t trust what I think. suppress my self, suppress my mind. with a blade so worn, can’t cut through the knot.

about

7 songs.

credits

released January 2, 2013

recorded by rollie ulug. www.erolulug.com

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Whip Hand Los Angeles, California

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