Fire and Fury

Tone Deaf and Slightly Dyslexic 

welp fuck it

A culmination of fuckin' a1 hardcore punk ballads. play that shit on 11 and dance alone in your bedroom you busted bich. Out now becasue I wanted to put it on tha internet beofre record label caugt wind of my inspirations.

TRACK 03

Recorded, mixed & mastered by Pavlo Sokalskii (@pasha.sokalskii) at Falcon Studios during August 2020;
Album cover by Oleksandra Lavryniuk (@Sanchousas);
Guitars, vox, bass - Teimur Magerramov (@namashd);
Drums, guitars, production - Kirill Kuznecov (@kkchains);
Backing vox for track 2 -  Dima Yandulski (@dima.yandulski).
From the darkest of places - to you
Enjoy!

Welcome To Despairland

Redneck Orgy

A shitty situation, someone jacked my car
My taste is getting larger while I'm drinking at the bar
A shitty situation soon to be my past
If you buy me a drink I'm sure I'll have a blast
Chronic constipation like viewing others art
Lovely conversation but now I have to part
Decline your invitation I've got other plans
My time with you is nearly through I need a brand new start
A shitty situation, now that she can't drive
I better take the plunge while this thing is still alive
A shitty situation, I hope that no one sees
Should I call a cab or why not steal her keys?
An unsuspecting victim, a wallet or a purse
Your cards and your meds are why I'm so perverse
An unsuspecting victim, drinking at the bar
Desperate and alone please to meet you I am Mark
A shitty situation my judgement is a skew
I thought I picked up one but clearly it's a two
A shitty situation very well rehearsed
Oh is that your friend now I'm going through your purse.

Got It Made - EP

Shitty Situation

Guttermouth - Shitty Situation

Darwin's Cat

Cat's Hard Day

Hey Mark, it's fourth and goal
Why don't you get your Dad a beer
And do us all a favor
Get your punk ass out of here
Dear I think our son's retarded
He likes to read, not watch T.V.
He never plays no football
With the kids across the street
Hey Mom, hey Dad, yeah sports are great
If you like touching other men
But when we touch each other off the field
Well this becomes a sin
So I understand you think I'm slow
But I don't want to be like you
Because of you and Mommy
It's what I was born to do, hey ha
I'm destroying the world
I don't really give a shit 'cause it feels so Goddamn cool
I'm destroying the world
I don't really give a shit, no
Sorry son we understand
That you just don't fit in
So I filled your Mom's prescription
You'll be one of us again
Hey I don't give a shit 'bout what you think
You made me who I am
I'm taking up the banjo
To execute my evil plan
I'm destroying the world
I don't really give a shit 'cause it feels so Goddamn cool
I'm destroying the world
I don't really give a shit, no
I'm destroying the world
I don't really give a shit 'cause it feels so
Goddamn cool
I'm destroying the world
I don't really give a shit, no

The Whole Enchilada

I'm Destroying The World (Live)

Guttermouth - I'm Destroying The World (Live)

([groan] fuck this day yeah!)

And I see you in my dreams
Wondering what to do with me
And as I stare into your eyes
I know that I’d rather be blind
Then never see you again
Then never see you again

And I don’t know where to go from here
And I don’t know where to go from here
I’m lost in the shuffle
And I’m cleaning to your hands, out of fear
Of losing you

It all comes in waves
It all comes in waves

And these dreams, go on and on
Taking different shapes and forms
And I wake up in a cold sweat
Angry because you’re not the one that feels this way
Now I’m just a lying, cheating, sack of shit
Who just wants his love ones to take his pain
Oh god I’m gonna hate myself today
I’m gonna fucking hate myself today

And I don’t know where to go from here
And I don’t know where to go from here
I’m lost in the shuffle
And I’m cleaning to your hands, out of fear
Of losing you
And I don’t know why I feel this way
Cause I’m the one that choose not to stay
It’s all my fault but what can I say?

I know that you’re not alone
You’re living your life not living mine
And I’m sitting here wondering why
I was so reluctant to fly
Because I see
You staring back at me

(Let's go, let's go, LET'S GO!)

(Woo! Woo!)

We are, as we’re born
Two bodies as one
Displayed in beautiful form
And bathing in the rays of an unseen crime
Generating electric dust
Makes me wonder is love or is it just a must?

White Black

"Jackson's Blood" is an anthem for all the leather jacket wearing degenerates of the world. A tribute to good times past, and the fine folks at Schott. 

"Jackson's Blood" was recorded/mixed/mastered by Paul Miner at Buzzbomb Studios in Anaheim, CA. Artwork by Adam Hanson.

Lyrics: 
I sleep in it, I fuck in it
I even took a dump in it
That's my motherfuckin' Schott
Been around the world in it
Put it around some girls to keep warm in it
Jackson's blood-stained on the inside
That's my fuckin' Schott

Day or night, winter or summer
Feels as good as getting a hummer
In the snow or in the shade
Or watching Jake and BDA put on tire chains

I sleep in it, I fuck in it
I even took a dump in it
That's my motherfuckin' Schott
Been around the world in it
Put it around some girls to keep warm in it
Jackson's blood-stained on the inside
That's my fuckin' Schott

Acid rain falls from an L.A. sky
Patina sets in once it dries
Bought it once so I bought it for life
Like an ass-groove in a couch
One of a kind

I sleep in it, I fuck in it
I even took a dump in it
That's my motherfuckin' Schott
Been around the world in it
Put it around some girls to keep warm in it
Jackson's blood-stained on the inside
That's my fuckin' Schott

Jackson's blood-stained on the inside
That's my fuckin' Schott

I sleep in it, I fuck in it
I even took a dump in it
That's my motherfuckin' Schott

Jackson's Blood

Cover art by greenddemon / Eliya Aviv
http://flow.page/greendemon

A bittersweet retelling of those stories you remember
So soft and so tender from afar 
May the wounds heal as the earth spins 
It all goes round and round 

Our ever-binding taste for escape 
Is this all there is to it? 

You can't deny, you can't deny 
The memory plagues your head like
A postmodern curse, a misguided thirst 
For something to stand by 

Should we detach
From our heartfelt moments 
For a future ever grim?
A sense of duty 
Never realized

A weight beneath your feet 
A strength you dearly keep
One you can call your own

 You can't deny, you can't deny 
The memory plagues your head like
A postmodern curse, a misguided thirst 
For something to stand by

Nostalgia Drive

Sometimes, you have to be silent to be heard,
but if you can’t understand my silence,
how can you understand my fucking words?
They say there’s something better than silence; it’s to speak the truth.
Well, how is that any better if no one will ever believe you?

The way I see it, I’m thoroughly fucked.
Life is nothing but a game of poker,
and you can’t win poker without a little luck.
Luck has forsaken me and life is without me.
Someone drive a stake in me and fucking allow me
to leave life and luck in the past, and welcome me home
when I finally reach a place where I can die alone,
in seclusive serenity. All I ask for is peace
and for my entity and these holy voices to cease.

Kinetics battle the stagnant inertia
and velocity decomposes, silencing auditoriums
of innocents, as their aspirations crash to the ground.
Like breathing underwater, the only escape is to drown,
so let the waters of morbid faith crush your brittle bones
until they pierce your veins into your stomach, fighting emulsion and cold.

It isn’t too much fun regurgitating your own blood.
I woke up this morning covered in rusty brown crust,
only to discover it was really dried pus.
Internally bleeding and covered in bruises,
not able to handle another contusion,
I sever my skin and welcome sweet hemorrhage,
and allow carcinogens to give malignance a little leverage.
Hemorrhage sustains under anemia and aneurisms in my head,
then parotitis settles in, causing encephalitis after the parasites have fed.
After this, meningitis takes over and leaves me in paralysis.
Then, I fall into a coma, and survive under analysis.
While in a coma, I’m suffering malaria,
never to wake up and save my loved ones from hysteria.

My cognition has grown weak, but this is how I feel.
Do I need a fucking saint to determine what is real?

The blood intrigues me. Am I a hemomaniac?
Here, take back all this disease; I don’t think that I can carry that.
The richer the hemoglobin, the more potent the aphrodisiac.
I cut myself in different methods just to see how the bleeding reacts.
The razor is dull, so I repeat to continue the pain,
over and over. Why can’t I ever sever a vein?

I mentioned, earlier, an induction of radiation,
and I’m starting to think it would be the best method of cessation.
What happens to the human body when ionized?
What happens when the molecules become electrically charged?
Would my organs incinerate, the jelly pour out my eyes,
or my insides become charred?
Would I become a necrological marvel,
spontaneously combusted as if made of charcoal,
and sent to the coroner wrapped in a parcel?
The passage for cells of such poison must have been aortal.

I choke myself to experience vertigo,
unaware that my brain cells would only be the first to go.
Someone, sing me the song of the nightingale.
Let the lady with the lamp light the path to recovery,
a path of twenty-one thousand miles, a beaten trail
of gurneys, and corridors, and distant sounds of fluttering-
not of a bird, but of a butterfly’s wing.

The chaos butterfly, the goddess of calamity,
hinders the fates of unsuspecting families.
Perhaps, I’ll ask of Calamity Jane to put her gun in my fucking mouth,
or perhaps, while I’m in Deadwood, I’ll venture to Black Hills Forest
and never come out of the mine
where I’ve buried myself alive.

I’m afraid my situation isn’t entirely clear.
I’ve been in incarceration for over a year,
and even longer inside my head.
I don’t want to suffer through my own lies until death,
which seems to be arriving a bit too early for its appointment.
Karma’s a fucking bitch, is it not?

06 - [ACT I: REALITY] SCENE 5: Silent Hysteria

AveriaReynnCrescent

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