The album Torn Between Earths has unconventional origins. It began with the band Blackurth. Black Urth is a songwriting duo of Sir. Black, and Governor Urth. However, the band is really just a combination of tragedy, desperation and time travel. This album, Torn Between Earths, was planned when the no talent hack, Sir. Black woke up homeless at home in his bed.
At the age of 201, Sir. Black realized how fast life had gone by. While combing his teeth and brushing his hair, the idea of putting an album out crossed his mind. Six hours, and six minutes, and six maniacal laughs later, Sir. Black entered his dollhouse garage and turned on his time machine.
The voices claim his last words were, “Piss off, you twaddleing cucks. I’m going to an alternate dimension to kill my younger self.”
The voices asked, “Why, Sir. Black?”
“I won’t tell you,” he yelled. “It is so that I could steal my own songs and become rich and famous. Damn, I said too much.”
Sir. Black spent six hours, and six minutes, and six hysterical cries, before zapping himself into another timeline.
Meanwhile, Governor Urth returned home from a big concert with multiple girls tearing off his clothes. He shoved them aside screaming, “Be gone soft ones. Why can't I live a normal life like everybody else? Why must I be trapped in my own fame?”
As he slept, he heard the voices saying unto him, “M’lord Governor, if you want freedom from soft ones you must go back and kill your younger self. But be warned. You must not kill yourself. Just kill Sir. Black, I guess. For he will become famous and you will be homeless at home. Steal Sir. Black’s songs and release them next to yours. Call it, Torn Between Earths.”
The voices faded, laughing like a funeral full of grade school girls….

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Torn Between Earths

Song origin: 

Sir Black’s face went mik-pale as he exited his time machine into a new dimension. 
“Why is this time machine broken and sending me to other dimensions?” he asked, scratching his head.
A dismember voice from a dark hall creeped in saying, “Yeeowser, sur! We thinks youssa torn between Earths.”
Sir Black spun a circle. “Who said that?”
“Tee Hee. Tee Hee…” replied the same incourprial voice.
Sir Black’s breaths quickened and his voice shook. “Who are you? Show yourself.”
“I am a splinter. A shadow on the wall. The dark abysmal shadow swarming from the hall.” the creeping voice said.
“I have a knife,” Sir Black warned.
“Oh, sweet little girl, I can not save you from your pain. Bear me no ill will for I cannot save me just the same. Ooowee! I says, I cane not… no sur-reee I cane not save yuhhhhs!”
Sir Black’s brow furrowed. “Who are you calling a little girl? I'm a grown ass man, my good sir.”
“Whhaaaahhhhtttt?” howled the voice. “No. no. no. Not again. Bleak nightmares! An ode to something I once adored.”
“Haunted voice of this torn between Earths, you be too vague and nebulous.” Sir Black said.
“Bleak nightmares,” the voice said again. “An ode to something I held before.”
“Tell me please, who are you?” Sir Black begged with folded hands.
“Oh, yousa want our name sur? Yousa want to know? Foul intrusion of meat and blood and other moistness wants our name?” the agitated voice asked. “I am nightmare Governor Urth.”
“Stay away. This is the last knife!” Sir Black replied. 
“Wait. Did you say the ‘last’ knife?” the voice asked.
“I did.”
“Eeeek!” The fleeing voice trailed down the hall. As it faded, a clank of tin smacked upon the floor. It rattled to a soft silence. Sir Black walked to the shiny round object and held it to the dim light. Upon it read, master reel of Blackurth the imfamous industrial metal band's, You Creep In.
Sir Black rushed to his time machine and quickly disappeared. 

Song lyrics: 

You creep in blood-shot eyes.
You creep in, but this is the last knife.
You creep in slither slide.
You creep in, but this is the last knife.
Splinter is the shadow crawling on the walls.
The dark abysmal shadow’s swarming from the halls.
Sweet little girl, I cannot save you from your pain.
Bear me no ill will, for I can’t save me just the same.
Sweet little girl, I cannot save you from your pain.
Promise me that you will not save me from my pain.
Bleak nightmares. An ode to something I once adored.
Bleak nightmares. An ode to something I held before.

You creep In

Sir. Black, after exiting his time to kill his younger self, realized the time machine did not send him back in time. He stood in a parallel timeline where his alternative self became famous and over sexed by all the women, and eunuchs. Jealous, he found his alternate self and murdered his ass.
He emerged from behind the donkey, choking the alternate Sir. Black’s ass out. After lighting the cadaver on fire, he put it out with his piss. He took a hacksaw to the charred remains and dismembered it while dancing around like a crazed murder shaman.
The donkey spontaneity resurrected, yawling, “Hee haw."
“Get along, little doggie,” the donkey implored his big cat.
“Oh, dog gone-it,” the cat said back to him.
“Meow,” said the insect, feeding on the cat's neck.
“Bark,” spoke the tree full of several hundred thousand more insects.
“Ruff,” said the cow grazing under the tree.
“That's how I like it. Rough.” said Sir Black rising from the dead. He bowed to the cow and the dog that vigorously humped his leg.
Governor Urth landed in front of confused Sir Black, asking, “Where did you fall from?”
“I just jumped over the moon, while on the back of an ant.”
“Do you want to help me kill myself?” asked Sir. Black.
“Does a goat eat a politician? Hell yes I do.”
So Governor Urth pulled his knife out and killed Sir. Black. Unfortunately, it was the wrong Sir. Black he assailed.
“Cough, why did you kill me? Cough, cough. Everythings going dark. I’m peeing and pooping my pants and I just exploded real hard and I’m still a virgin, at least this version of me.”
Those were his last words.
Sir Black skipped up to Governor Urth. “So you just killed me huh?”
Governor Urth looked at Sir. Black, then He looked at Sir. Black, and then he kept on looking back and forth between Sir Black and Sir Black. Dizzy and nauseous, he exclaimed, “I don’t understand this scene."
Then someone from the shadows of the sun shot him in the weiner. He launched into the sky and fell on his balls and died.
Sir Black looked to see who shot Governor Urth only to see Governor Urth standing there with a jolly, psychopathic smile.
Sir. Black looked at Governor Urth and then looked at Governor Urth, and kept on looking back and forth between the two until another bang pierced the air.
"Oh, crackerjack. Someone shot me, the only sensual Sir. Black."
He fell to the floor and rolled into a pile of jello, where he bounced like a springy Adam's apple. The trauma did kill him dead in his own piss, blood, poop, and spews.
Governor Urth looked to see who shot Sir. Black, only to find Sir Black standing there.
“So, we meet again,” spake Sir. Black to Governor Urth.
Yet another bang, rang. Both Sir. Black and Governor Urth fell from bullet wounds. The two shooters glanced at each other, noticing that they were both Sir. Black and Governor Urth.
“Bang” rang another concussion. Sir Black and Sir Black drop dead. The two shooters look at each other only to see that they were both Governor Urth.
"Stay dead," screamed Sir. Black.
As Sir. Black rose from the ground, he looked at the pile of dead. "Wow. I keep getting a very sensual, new body," he said, feeling his soft skin.
Somewhere in this god forsaken madness of nonsense, Governor Urth managed to steal the original recordings of the hellish alternate Earth’s version of Blackurth and left in his time machine. After seeing Governor Urth escape, Sir. Black stepped over the landslide of dead bodies, got in his time machine, and zapped off to pursued him.

In Neverness

Governor Urth tripped out of his time machine… Wait. I mean, he tripped then walked out of his time machine to see the ugliest people he’d ever witnessed. Picture it, Hollywood California circa 2022. The good old days. When people were pure and enlightened. Just kidding, they were superficial and greedy, but whatever. Governor Urth walked up to one of the ugly creatures and spoke in his language. “Groovy baby, I like your face and want to ask you something.”
The person he addressed stood in the shadow of Universal Studios. (™) or whatever..
He turned around and spoke in a Putty Puss voice. “Whaaaaaat dooo you waaaant?” while slapping his right hand towards him.
“Have you seen this man?” Governor Urth said, pulling out a photo that he slapped on to the man’s hand.
Stepping from the shadows was a ten foot tall man-ster with three eyes, and a crooked spine. Popping upon his face were millions of puss infected zits. He had two noses, both with milk-green snot dangling from them. Crooked black teeth cragged behind two non-existent lips. On the crown of his bald head sat one crusted, mangled ear. A long fanning beard hung down to the ground. As he was bare ass naked, Governor Urth realized the man-ster was a eunuch with hair all over his seven ass cheeks.
“Why are yooooou showiiing meee this naked womaaaan? She’s old enough to be yooour mottther?” The man said, still slapping his right hand towards him.
“Oops, sorry for the wrong photo,” Governor Urth said. He placed the photo in his pocket for later use. Searching his left pocket, he found the photo he was looking for.
“Whoooo iiiiis thiiiiis?” the man-ster asked.
“It’s my arch nemesis, Sir. Black.”
A disembodied orchestra played a staccato, du, du, duuuuuu! Lightning crashed in the clear blue sky.
This as much as soundcloud allows us to upload. To read more please checkout this track on bandcamp. https://blackurth.bandcamp.com/track/why-am-i-so-ugly

Why am I so ugly

Governor Urth wanked out of his time machine into a strange world of people flying on tiffany wings. In the chaos of a fly walk he fell from the shy.
“But I’m still a virgin,” he screamed as he fell from a fatal height.
About to be a splat on the brambles and thorny rose field, an angelic woman caught him by the collar.
“Thank you ma'am,” he said.
“You look strange,” she replied. Then with a lick of her lips she said, “I’ll take you back to my nest and share you with my chicks.”
So she took him by the hand and took him to her farm.
“There ya go have your way with the chicks, they are all yours.”
“Come to poppa you mother cluckers,” he said.
Behind him the angelic woman rubbed her hand together and spoke under her breath saying, “You fool. You don’t realize that I am Sir Black, the angel who brought you here. After I arrived here, I transformed and rolled out from a man to a woman. Tee, he. Tee, he,” she giggled.
In the bushes there were two spies, one white and one black. They were Mad because Blackurth had stolen their ideas. “Hey. We are the ones always versing each other.”
They looked at each other and ganged up on Black and Urth.
“I’ll go after the one named Black.” said the spy, who was black.
“I'll go after the other one.” said the white one. The white Spy jumped out and yanked Governor Urth away from the chicks kicking and screaming. Meanwhile, the other spy reassigned the maleness back into Sir. Black by tearing the balloons from his blouse and wig off his head.
“What the hell are you two guys? I was happy as "Her" Black and now you have forced me to be Sir. Black again.”
“My name is Spy,” said one of them.
“My name is Spy too,” said the other.
“No, my name is Spy,” the first one said, as he shook his fist at the other one.
“No, my name is Spy, you stupid son of an anteater.”
“You are the one who ate my aunt.”
“That’s not what I meant. Besides, you’re my nephew.”
They pulled their handheld rubber nipples and made weak stabs at each other. Governor Urth gasped as the nipples caused the two to bleed to death.
“What in the queen's beard was that all about?” asked Governor Urth.
“I don’t know, but now I'm inspired to stab you,” said Sir. Black.
The two time travelers silly walked around each other, bobbing their heads like birds pecking at worms.
“We don’t have knives,” said Sir. Black.
"Then what is that under your skirt?” asked Governor Urth.
“If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” scoffed Sir. Black.
“Have at you,” screamed Governor Urth. They engaged in a melee of slaps, eye poking, and hair pulling until both fell from exhaustion. After the cloud of dust settled, Governor Urth clenched his chest. "I’m dying of a heart attack."
“No,” cried Sir Black. "I don’t want to live here without you."
Like a cobra attacking a flute, Governor Urth's foot struck Sir Black’s skirt snake in the snake eyes. He fell clenching his crotch, and vomiting all over his blouse.
“You are too easy and gullible, Sir. Black,” Governor Urth said.
"Yes, but not cheep," wheezed Sir. Black."
“Shut up and give me that reel of music you have taped to your thigh.”
Governor Urth, reached for the hairy thigh with a maniacal gin beaming hotter than the sun. The sharp stab of a wing’s feather knocked him over. Sir. Back stood and said, "Har, har, har. These wings are implants, you wort off a toad's back."
Sir. Black flew back to his time machine and disappeared.
“I’ll get you for this insurrection Sir. Black, and your little skirt too,” screamed Governor Urth.

The reason

Sir. Black emerged from his time machine, into a corny Jack cornfield where the corn told corny jokes. The stocks laughed as the ears covered themselves and grumbled. Sir. Black smiled and searched the corn field for Governor Urth for hours, where it seemed the field had no end. Frustrated, he decided to rest.
“I think I’m lost,” he said. “I wonder if I’ll even find my time machine in all this corn.”
As he longed for a tree to climb, a noise caught his attention. The corn screamed in pain and several snapped under stomping feet. Voices called out, tanting, “Outdimensional, we have your woman. She still lives.”
The voices sounded like children. Sir. Blace rose and called out, “Hello? I say, children, do you know how to get out of the corn field?”
“Your woman had games and music. Those are forbidden. So we captured her and called her Alison. If you want out of the corn and to see Alison you will follow us,” a voice said.
“Where are you? Come now. Let Uncle Sir. Black see your sweet little faces.”
“I’m behind you,” said a voice who’s tone rang high and sweet as any innocent girl.
Sir. Black smiled. Finally he would be led out of the corn. He turned to face the child. His face grew pale, his stomach shot into his throat. He squealed, too shocked to scream. Before him stood a horrifying, squat, red eyed, pointed ear, green complexioned, monstrosity of pointy blood marred fangs.
She lifted a goat horn, which she bore around her neck. As she blew into it, it screeched a loud dissonant tone. The creature giggled covering her wide mouth. “All too easy,” she said. “Sound him.”
“What’s going on here?” Sir. Black said. “I demand you tell me how to leave the corn.”
Dozens of small creatures surrounded him with sharp claws drawn.
“We have a new toy,” they rejoiced in unison, before going into a frenzied chant. “Scratch toy. Scratch toy.”
“Shut up,” ordered the horn bearer. “This one has to witness the death of Alison first. Then the Outdimensional will be our new Alison. Remember the rules of the game.”
This as much as soundcloud allows us to upload. To read more please checkout this track on bandcamp. https://blackurth.bandcamp.com/track/my-alison

My Alison

Governor Urth stepped out of his time machine into a world of trash and pigsties. He turned in all directions and then stopped, then turned over and over before slipping on the bananas and crap. An individual with a slide whistle made a sliding sound. He had been waiting for this moment since he was two. He’s 95 and hasn’t left the corner since.
“Where the hell is Sir Black?” he asked, disgusted by the foul smell.
Several miles and many vomits later, he saw a swinley piggishly fat, disgusting, foul smelling Sir. Black. And for some reason, Sir. Black did not look any different in the alternate Earth.
A police man showed up and oinked these words. “Oink, oink, oink, oink.” which via osmosis he knew meant, “May I help you my fine human friend” “I’m looking for Sir Black. Do you know where I can find him?” The short fat copper wiggled his pig tail and responded, “Oink Oink. Snort oink weeeeeeeeee,” meaning, “You say he’s Black?”
“No, no, his name is Sir Black!”
For which the fat smokey-pokie he turned himself around responded, “Grunt,oink,oink, weeeeeeeee, weeeeeeee oink grunt all the way home snort,” translated as, “Crap!”
The swine waddled off, shaking his head in disappointment.
“What was that all about?” mumbled Governor Urth as he walked down the street named T.J. Hooker. He opened a door laying upon the street and saw the big bad wolf.
“Big bad wolf I want to kill you."
And then he walked on down the street. He opened a door hidden behind a lingam and said, “Madre, I want to invite you over for a nice family reunion since I would never f*$k my mother.”
He then made it down the street and found Sir. Black rolling around in mud. It was wall street and so that makes total sense.
“You cockroach,” screamed Sir. Black.”
“No,” said a cockroach. “He's a hairless monkey, you big snuffy bird.”
“Who are you calling a nuffy bird?” screamed a giant yellow bird.
The cockroach and the bird began a brawl of spits, pecks and machine guns.
Sir Black stands up from the muck, crap and the goo. “Now hold on a minute!” he screamed. Everyone stopped mid bullet and shut up, looking in his direction. “C’mon guys, we are here in the neighborhood of Mr. Rodgers Poppy Street and we can’t all just get along?”
Everyone began ugly crying, hugging each other. World peace began in the world of Brawny the Dinah Shore. The world’s alien enslaved lived happily ever after. Except, for Sir black and Governor Urth who still go on trying to kill each other.
“You're a dirty pervert who never showers. And you stink,” said Governor Urth to Sir Black.
He found a water pot placed on a nearby window and poured it on Sir. Black's head.
“Why?” cried Sir. Black. “It's mushroom acid. Not Lucy In The Sky type of acid but the acid that burns and shit.”
Sir. Black began melting like a witch in water, that floats and is therefore made of wood.
“A witch,” called a buck tooth flying monkey. “Burn it.”
“Don’t be a bigot,” said a frog definitely not trademarked by a dude named Henson.
As the frog and the monkey ended the fragile world peace with precision nuclear strikes, Governor Urth ripped from Sir. black’s melting bands a reel of music titled, Because I’m Dirty. Before a fatal mushroom cloud ended it all, he zapped away in his groovy time machine.

Because I'm dirty

Song origin:

Governor Urth walked out of his time machine onto a chalky sand beach. Its bounds huddled against a rolling sea where the thundering waves crashed upon so many bouldering appendages.
Skipping about the warm seashore were that reality’s famous psychedelic band, Blackurth. The two musicians, completely enthralled in their creative process, clacked rocks together and blew upon blades of grass. This made a symphony of some semblance of “music”, which they merrily recorded into a soggy clam.
Once finished, Sir Black tossed the clam into the ocean knowing that one day a record executive would find that masterpiece of unhinged clamcording. 
Jealous, and not at all hinged himself, the uninvited Governor Urth raised his slingshot and placed a prickly shrub into it. He pulled back and fired a shot that dismembered Sir Black between his legs. 
At the sight of this, the native Governor Urth rejoiced, “He was holding me back.” 
The native Governor Urth ran to embrace his strange doppelganger self. Like a flash, before the embrace, the native Governor Urth fell from a tickle. His naughty doppelganger did tickle him, and tickle him some more. So much tickling did he tickle, that he tickled the poor Governor Urth to death.
“Ha, ha, ha,” cried the time traveling Governor Urth. “You have been tickled. If only I did not know your fatal weakness. Now, to find that clam.” 
Meanwhile down the shore, not a quarter of a knot, a squat corpulent man with a toupee, puffed a cheap cigar. He found and put to his ear the washed up clam and began a rhythmic snapping of his fingers. 
His raspy voice said, “I like these guys’ style.” 
Panicked to find the creators of the clamcording, he waddled from person to person asking, “I say, is this you?” He waddled about until he came upon Governor Urth. “Is this your unsettling, yet sweetly addictive clamcording? It must be. I like your face. I can make you ‘screw you’ famous.”
“Wait. Are you Colonel Tom Parker?” asked Governor Urth. 
“No my name is Major Har Donn and I got a major stiff cigar for your music. But first, excuse me. I have to spank this dirty monkey for about three minutes.”
The man spanked a diapered monkey, which this whole time perched upon his shoulder.
“I don’t take kindly to animal abuse, Major,” Governor Urth said as he flung a fist full of sand into the Major’s eyes. He snached from the Major the clam and bravely ran away, screeching, “Woop. Woop. Woop.”
Once back at his time machine Governor Urth examined the clam, and to his whale of a surprise inside was a pearl. 
“I shall call this song, My Pearl.” With those final words, his time machine zapped him to another timeline.

My pearl

Megalomaniac (KMFDM Cover)

Light my fire

An oblivious void

Toy box

??? Water sounds

Gnashing

Menagerie

We cry in the Blackurth

My beloved dead

Only in your dreams

Candy surprise

Dead soldiers

In repose

Our debut album, Torn Between Earths, is now live!

#gothicrock #industrialrock #gothicpsychodelic 

Download for free here: https://blackurth.bandcamp.com/releases 

The band Blackurth is a songwriting duo of Sir. Black, and Governor Urth. However, the band is really just a combination of tragedy, desperation and time travel. This album, Torn Between Earths, was planned when the no talent hack, Sir. Black woke up homeless at home in his bed.
At the age of 247, Sir. Black realized how fast life had gone by. While combing his teeth and brushing his hair, the idea of putting an album out crossed his mind. Six hours, and six minutes, and six maniacal laughs later, Sir. Black entered his dollhouse garage and turned on his time machine. 
The voices claim his last words were, “Piss off, you twattleing cucks. I’m going to an alternate dimension to kill my younger self.”
The voices asked, “Why, Sir. Black?”
“I won’t tell you,” he yelled. “It is so that I could steal my own songs and become rich and famous. Damn, I said too much.”
Sir. Black spent six hours, and six minutes, and six hysterical cries, before zapping himself into another timeline.
Meanwhile, Governor Urth returned home from a big concert with multiple girls tearing off his clothes. He shoved them aside screaming, “Be gone soft ones! Why can't I live a normal life like everybody else? Why must I be trapped in my own fame?”
As he slept, he heard the voices saying unto him, “M’lord Governor, if you want freedom from soft ones you must go back and kill your younger self. But be warned. You must not kill yourself. Just kill Sir. Black, I guess. For he will become famous and you will be homeless at home. Steal Sir. Black’s songs and release them next to yours. Call it, Torn Between Earths.” 
The voices faded, laughing like a funeral full of grade school girls….

Blackurth

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