Meat.
A new taste in our hungry jaws.
Baked.
Smells like nothing ever tasted.
Before.
This flesh is ours to eat.
Before.
The omen of the old man realizes.
Revelation flesh.
A never-ending hunger
Arises in the mouth of savage beasts,
Craving for hot blood.
Revelation flesh.
A never-ending hunger
Arises in the mouth of savage beasts,
Craving for hot blood.
Revelation flesh.
Hot dead meat to provoke the wrath of gods.
We crawl in a tide of baked muscles,
Without loathing.
Revelation flesh.
Hot dead limbs. We dwell in the deepest vice.
We crawl in a mess of smoking rejections,
Without loathing.
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