Corpses all around,
With faces convulsed and dead empty eyes
Pointing to the sun,
They're all dead.
What have we become?
With faces convulsed, our dead empty tribe
Blaming on the earth.
We're all dead.
We're dead. We count the bodies among the ashes.
We're dead. We bury our wives among the ashes.
They're dead, and by their side, we lay their children's heads.
They're all dead, we all are damned, we all deserved.
We all deserved.
The old man laughs; to ashes they're all gone.
Under grey skies, we gather.
Entangled in the dust, they're forever gone.
We cry for the ones that are forever gone
Under.
Under grey shrines, they lay.
Beneath the ashes, they passed away
Under grey shrines, they lay
Beneath the ashes, they all passed away.
Under.
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