Unaltered Perspective

Thoughts and Prayers

DOMESTIC EXTREMITY

INDIGENT BOTULIN

STABBED UNTIL UNRECOGNIZED

BASTARD LAND

FLESH FED

I read the news through a painted lens
Lies wrapped up in corporate friends
I dig through dirt, I chase the thread
While the world just scrolls and shakes its head

No fancy schools, no PhD
But I see what they don’t want me to see
Patterns in chaos, whispers in smoke
Truth dressed up like some kind of joke

The wise are breaking, numbing their pain
To unsee what’s real in a world insane

Do I rise? Do I fight?
For a flag that don’t feel right?
Do I bleed for a cause
While they sit behind their laws?
No more war for a wicked regime
No more deaths for a corporate dream
We built this cage —
We can tear the seams

They push us down, feed us despair
Profit from panic, then strip us bare
Weapons sold for a bloody prize
While monsters hide behind suits and ties

Equality? Just a word they twist
Solutions fade in an iron fist
“Share the wealth” they call it war
When we ask for less, they take some more

(Yeah!)
Tear the walls down stone by stone
(BOOM!)
Burn the thrones and take the throne
(Come on!)
Break the banks and shred the chains
Let the people rise from pain

Stop the killing for their gain
Let the fire wash this shame
Let the system fall to dust
Let ‘em fear the ones they crushed
We are many — we can see
They don’t own you
They don’t own me

We built this world — now let it burn
And build again on what we learn
No kings, no gods, no lies to feed
Just open hearts
Where we can fucking breathe

Blood for Nothing

Fog Over Whitechapel — This opening track launches a brutal ritual concept album that reimagines Jack the Ripper as an ancient horror stalking gaslit London. Industrial metal, gothic doom, and occult theatrics collide in a suffocating fog of myth and murder. Full album coming Halloween 2025.

Lyrically paints the poverty and desperation of 1888 Whitechapel while hinting at an unseen hunger stirring in the mist. A shadow moves with intent, though whether man or something darker is left uncertain.

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[Verse 1]
Hush — hush —
I walk where gaslight cracks the stone.
Fog drinks secrets from your bones.
My boots pound streets of rust and prayer,
My breath a curse, my grin a snare.

[Chorus 1]
In fog I wake — your pulse undone —
A myth reborn beneath the gun.
Gaslight hums my gutter vow —
I am the blade that carves you now.

[Verse 2]
Steel whispers steam in alley jaws —
(I cut, I carve — the god I draw)
Rust and silk beneath my thumb —
(I hush the street — the ritual drum)

Your breath is frost — your prayer is ash —
(I grin where lanterns flicker, crash)
Fog-bound throat — the oath you keep —
(A hymn of iron where secrets sleep)

[Chorus 2]
In fog I wake — the myth divine —
Your heartbeat hums inside my spine.
Lanterns drown where shadows bow —
I am the cut that feeds you now.

[Bridge]
Come closer — hush — your pulse, my hymn —
Gaslight swears the fog grows thin.
I break the street — I breathe you whole —
A throat of wire, a soul of coal.

[Breakdown]
Hounds in steam — I tear the sleep —
Scrap-bound hands — the butcher creeps —
Chant the oath — the fog devours —
Gutter hymn — the iron flowers.

[Final Chorus]
In fog I wake — your fear confined —
A myth reborn inside your mind.
Lanterns choke — your secrets bow —
I am the blade — I am you now.

[Outro]
When fog returns, so too shall I —
Your throat, my blade, Whitechapel’s cry.

INDIGENT BOTULIN

SCALP