Qliphoth

by Cloud Rat

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1.
02:15
2.
01:21
3.
4.
03:26
5.
01:40
6.
01:22
7.
02:15
8.
03:29
9.
10.
11.
12.
01:35
13.
03:31
14.
02:27
15.
01:37
16.
17.
02:39

credits

released May 29, 2015

tags

license

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about

Cloud Rat Michigan

Grindcore punk band from Michigan. Pro-vegan / Anti-jerks. Hit us up at cloudratgrind@gmail.com

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Track Name: Seken
Wake up. Dull bulb flickers fluorescent.
Mind on again. Down the stairs. Bathroom Mirror.
Clothes on again. Can I do this again?
Unpaid. Pinstripe red. Overtime.
My fingers are cold and my lips are dry.
Did I leave the lights on? Do I remember?
Recession to collapse.
I stare at myself in the reflection.
One last primal thought. DSM-5.
I imagine famine & the blood of others.
Ants that dance in the sand.
Suns hands pushing and pulling
The last beads of moisture I’ve saved.
The mouth of the people.
The mouth that gulps humans.
Weak. Infinite. Incomplete.
Brittleness; a transformation that will never happen.
Waiting for an ancient god that does not exist.
Things missing. Things you remember. Withdrawal.
“It’s the food they offered you.
It’s subversive, it’s treacherous,
And it does not mean life.”
Track Name: Botched
Delaying executions.
Behind a bulletproof wall.
Get on your hind feet you fucking dog.
- These things, regarding the head -
The cop holds a thin sword above the inmate’s body.
“Sentenced to suffer for those you made suffer.”
Cocktail jester/magnifying glass.
Writing, summoning pain. No mercy machine.
This new kind of killer, search party, plastic tray.
Drawn and quartered.
Shaking violently, muscular deterioration.
In the ache of a longing pain.
His back is cold, but he can still feel his whole body burning.
Track Name: The Upper World
Lavender lipstick giving a goodbye.
Compressor snake skin around my thigh,
Like a tapestry I can hang on my wall.
The prophet; the arc moving slow.
Something to worship: something deformed.
She’s putris and knows how to harness her glow.
Crumbling, reducing, Aiesr melts the snow.
She gives me a root canal, head on pillow.
She gives me my own thoughts, pills & pressure.
Mambo guides me through a polluted swamp,
Stands with me as I crawl up the tyrant’s sleeping throne.
Driving my heel into his scales,
I impale him with his own crown.
Straddling the fussy little man,
I scratch and open his chest.
Emerge; creep forth the cycle of life.
Your hands will no longer drown.
Track Name: Raccoon
Half past the unlucky, and there’s a pebble in my shoe.
Rollercoaster stomach. “You’re soft,” said Aural Glory.
Knee jerks, and she became a guillotine.
Decapitated pleasure, staring into another skull.
Coward. If I splice thyself, you should have it all.
Cleaning up remnants, laying on the softest hair.
A moving violation...
...and the body that grows stems walks towards me.
Rose peasant, your house is gone.
You’re living in a black hole.
Tie a rope around the ankle of something you shouldn’t let go,
But symptoms toe the line. My personality is disturbing me.
Flushed cheeks, and here I am, left.
It’s no fun to see the bleeding,
To hear your clarifying clues.
Your face will come to me in a crowd.
Thy dark and earnest eyes.
Patience.
Track Name: Daisies
Toppling over, I see you in the window.
Red orange leaves covering your cuts,
Little incisions made just for us.
If you hear something like a wave, come find me.
Keep those eyes shut tight, As you make yourself bleed.
You’ve closed the window, And now I sing outside.
Hummingbird loose, different guts you collect.
Only stay a month or two.
Internet loves that fuck the love out of you.
Dear girl, I could have their hearts. Deliver them in parts.
I’m outside your window, and I can still see you.
Track Name: Bloated Goat
Rising from under a sheet, a corpse that still has skin.
Painted nails, navy blue. “Urine ball little girl.”
Take her boots off one by one.
Apa smiles as he runs away. A silent crushed ant.
Let her kick you in the face.
Booze dressed on her every day.
Driving the kids, not to play, but to be the spectacle.
Stolen prizes you cheated to get us,
From a traveling carnival.
I heard you died in your sleep.
The woman you killed was the one to call upon me.
I laid back in the bath... No water, just clothes.
Track Name: Rusting Belt
Thickness you seem to see, rolling and coarse.
Do you want to live with me, like me?
There’s not a chance. Never was a choice.
Cutting black confetti, it’s all from my hair.
Disrupting ecosystems. Hauling the art away.
Point your mouth, asphyxiate. Come along, crisis.
Kerosene, wet my mouth. Holy dwelling habitat.
Enemy erection. Stuffed animals. Ashes.
Will we have enough oxygen to sing on our own?
Drainage sucking industrial love. Water well empty.
“Arson is a form of self-expression,
In a place where you can’t express yourself.”
Elders, to kids, know in their brains:
This whole fucking neighborhood is gonna burn down,
I’m afraid, one day.
Track Name: Udder Dust
Sometimes I think of how hardly alive you are at all.
Dodging bullets. Dodging raindrops.
December’s here, and this rattling can,
Of a group “home” (we call a home) can’t stay warm.
There are no colors. The world feels dusty.
The thoughts that swim in & out make a traitor out of me.
Suspend myself from the ceiling and watch us all live.
I break and slip porcelain plates.
Abandoned. Restrained. Clinking chain.
Move to the same motions. I stare back at the clock.
How do I convince you I’m living?
Creeping smile, dry lips close.
I entertain thoughts that lull my mind.
Just sitting here in my head (free reign for my brain).
This place is the fly that won’t stop following me.
Track Name: The Boar's Snout
His nose is bustled in my neck.
Hazy. Bigots always saying sorry,
While they’re standing over the body.
Somehow, somebody’s face is missing.
Tantra chain lock collars, unmasked dogs.
I can picture the minutes, feel the minutes,
Before his body hits the cement.
Billboards make the brainwaves sway.
Breathing out like a contaminated street vent.
Knock me to the ground, watch and wait,
Until the slime comes out. Abort the only flesh left.
I spy head against brickwork.
His smells conquered. Hands limp, freezing over.
Snot slides down into my mouth. You’re not mine now.
Taken away.
Track Name: Hermit - Interstice
Don’t look at me for answers. Look to the sky.
Swear on your life. So ashamed of your lies.
You won’t be forgiven.
Constantly questioning your motives.
Confused by the process of your thoughts.
Sick to death of guessing games.
Tired of your dull-edged blame.
Aren’t you ashamed?
Please enlighten me. Do you take yourself seriously?
Your straight-faced explanations never fail to disappoint.
I’m ashamed. So ashamed.
I don’t want to see you, no.
I have another face now - that one.
That one that you knew remains forever in your pupils.
You won’t be forgiven.
Track Name: Live Wake
Lick it up.
The fertility differs from person to person.
Slow cascading urination; way of life; unwanted guests.
Will you press the flowers I gave you? In glass?
Are you hovering, or just laying on your back?
Day by day, the mold I smell in this hospital gown...
Spiders weave around my head.
Silk curtains for my bed.
So, would I live this life’s brief span?
Roll me. Ween me. Leave me on my side.
Encore medicaid. Loose hair I wrap around.
Vultures swarming, waiting for the bill.
I can see their reflections.
Dollar store smell.
Track Name: Thin Vein
What’s the mother tongue? Thin vein. Bolt gun.
Up and down. Close and part.
I lay, aimlessly staring at the wall.
Outer space; the void. I can’t sleep again.
Laying on my face: one white-numb hand.
Stars above my head. Pull-out peace. Any chance of sleep?
Everyone on this planet is humming the same sound.
Outer space; the void. I can’t sleep again.
Thunderous laughing, plunged in night...
Track Name: Bolt Gun
...The rising heat of a blistering cell, pulsating.
Brass teeth that gnaw and grind.
A collared neck that is raw.
A woman alone holding a child,
Playing unharmed and sweet.
Fungus that evolves into the next type of species.
Radiation silence. Aging man in a chair.
Violence. Mourning. Courage. Resistance.
Rupture the lungs. Bolt gun to the temple.
Endless sips from my glass of water.
“I lay there again,
Drops of sweat slowly sliding from my hairline.”
Track Name: Rouge Park
The ice is finally thawing. Take notice to a decaying smell.
Paws and mandibles, to our surprise, come blooming out.
Muzzles and secretions intertwined,
With wrappers and garbage.
Fifty dead dogs strewn about.
You had the power of steel. You had the power of weight.
To build a pit, to use fear as bait.
Human infliction and the four stages of cruelty.
They’re my machines with no souls.
I can hear them whimpering over the sneering laughter.
The collar placed around my throat,
A dominant leather reminder.
Gutted. Classified as property.
I must obey, or I will be broken.
Frozen. No justice. Cryptic. No salvation.
The ghosts will find you by other means.
One day soon, you’ll be thrown in a pit.
Deemed destroyed. Just for the rush of it.
Track Name: Friend of the Court
There are spaces above the doors.
Round tables set for four.
How can I be an influence whenever you’re freed?
He stares at the kids, and he stares back at me.
Hiding under coats on the bus. Zipper wheel around.
The light filters pink through the clouds.
A blockade of the soul. Ten years old.
Sister, I know to make it stay.
Let a release of paper, but make the pain go away.
A knife to the jaw. Weapons in the cellar.
Condescending teeth. I know a hundred ways to die.
You’re sore. Knight the child. Grace.
Mail the gender back to the king. Kistestver.
Track Name: Chrysalis
We went with hearts too full to know.
Reveled in destruction and rage,
The home is still faintly burning.
Inside, a couple of kids.
The crying dust. The womb of lust.
Pinks and oranges fall on the rooftops.
The dark and the dampness,
Covering the walls in paper thoughts,
Of gatherings long since passed.
We broke into a billion pieces and finally fell.
The cocoon is hard and protective.
It’s trimmed in the hair I have ripped,
Collected from each creature.
The wing veins in the heart burst through.
Looking at you, I gasp,
But my lungs fill with hopelessness.
Dry, sucked-back pupils.
Immerse myself in the cracking shell.
Thinking of times when the kitchen chair,
Would be my bed (The cocoon).
I hear your voice. Your eyes dart.
Toxic secretions coming out of you,
Like a colorful hostage behind glass.
I strip and enter the last stage.
Countermeasures to race these toxins.
I’m not dreaming.