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Thin Walls

by Windmill of Corpses

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1.
1 - Mindless Bellyfish The excess hangs... and the winds of change are still. Better days... this thought exists but the threat is never real. Lie in waste. Bide your time and bite your tongue. Pray pray pray For your precious savior to come. Hidden in your fantasies. Driven by insanity. Sick to death we shuffle through the belly of the beast. Imprisoned by the metal, the iron, the concrete. Rotting flesh and excess hanging by a string. A light so dull it flickers and inspires you to dream. So utterly alone, and it only drags on. So lay my soul where the current runs fast and strong. Nothing new can be achieved. Agendas lined in apathy. And the weight of it all breeds hell. Calloused fool, your world 's grown stale.
2.
2 - Cannibalize the Nincompoops Spineless cretin crawl. As your power falls. Courage enslaved. Lost and weak. No more restraint. Break and bleed. Never felt such distaste. You're a fucking disgrace. Watch out for I'm coming. I will stop at nothing. To see your end and consume all your sweet flesh for my fuel. Sawing slowly through your bones Stopping only when I'm full Oh, and I hope you feel hope you feel every tear. Oh, and I hope the hurt is deep. Oh, and I hope to hear hope to hear you wail. Oh, and I hope to hear you weep. Raw and real. Unfiltered agony. A life fulfilled through another's meat.
3.
Otay 04:24
3 - Otay First came the drones, then the sick, now the cold, as we tried to climb the almighty throne. Land of decay. Equilibrium fades. A virus that spans man and machine. Doomed to rule. Seething hatred fills my mind. Breathing life into the clumsy circuits of a false design. When what you created has learned how to create on its own the tables will turn and you will suffer its driving need to control. Compromise or be replaced. Expendable lives. A war of the worlds but the bastard still remains. When what you created is rot the core of it black and defiled existence devolves into a black hole as you curse it to hell. Embrace the nothingness.
4.
4 - Fuck, My Ball Was Eaten Short on time The boy falls into his mind. An open space for his ideas to flourish. But rest assured the worst is yet to come. Young and insecure. So insecurely young. Here there is no god, only your creation, the anarchy of thought, free from fabrication. The absence of all law, ability to reason, your hopelessness is lost, along with your allegiance. Follow me into the void. Follow me in my child... and see the truth as it's meant to be. No longer condemned to search. Awaken, this is your rebirth. Never surrender and never serve.
5.
5 - Smothered in Feek-Mat Beating tides. Weary eyes. The final sputtering light dies. Falter into disrepair. Wavering in and out of despair. The cold road pulls along. Ever bending. No shelter from the downpour. Never ending. No place to rest. No time to stop. Depletion. Screaming sound. Breathe into the endless vacuum. Calling lightning down Into the eyeless frost ridden cavern.

about

RECORDED AND ENGINEERED BY:
JASON ROGERS for WIDOW MAKER
in Prescott, AZ. May 2014
www. Widow - Maker . com

credits

released May 22, 2014

Marcus- Guitar/Vocals
Jessie- Guitar/Vocals
Prescot- Drums

-Gang Vocals on Cannibalize the Nincompoops- Chris Stevens

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Windmill of Corpses Prescott, Arizona

We are a 3 piece stoner/sludge band from Prescott, AZ. We play a mixture of metal, punk and whatever the hell else happens.

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