dark hillbilly death rattles

Watch me chip the edges off the shadows I cast 
Watch me shape my dark side in the image of a man
Well it only takes a little takes a little sleight of hand

And a hammer
And a chisel

When I was just a boy I could hardly be contained
By what the light would wish upon my outline
I’d contort my frame and push through pain to make a new design

And a silly face
That my shadow couldn’t copy

When I pick up all the pieces of the shadows I’ve been through
And build a man entirely of angles
The fragments held together with staples n glue

And sorry thoughts
And no sense of wonder

He’ll be waiting in your back seat he’ll be quiet as hell
Though he’s shaking cuz he’s barely held together
He’ll have to bite himself to calm himself to make himself well

If you can call it that
In a moment like this

He’ll have to take himself apart x2
He’ll have to pull out all the staples and lick the glue
He’ll have to take himself apart x2

It’s not his fault 
That it so hurts to live

take himself apart

You’re my honey from the carcass of a lion
I’ve longed for you since I had blood in my teeth 

You brought me sugar, honey, sugar’s what I really wanted
It gives my blood a boost

There’s a reason that I’m solid when I’m near you
And wobble when I’m too far away
I’ll raze the ground to such sinister waste without your
Gentle correction in me

Here’s the thing, everything alive wants to eat you
even the soil implores of your flesh
“Just lay here and be still and delicious;
I’m opening up to you”

When the skin around my ribs begins to loosen
Ridges and valleys form
I pray to god that I can know you in the biblical sense
And certain valleys rise

When I wander too far for too long, I feel a shake in my legs
When I start to feel the distance between, well 
Not so steady now

I’ll eat you up I love you so

Honey from the carcass of a lion

Soup - 4/5/24, 6.53 PM.m4a

ticks - 11/25/24, 9.17 AM.m4a

I’ll be happy when this whole thing ends.

bird over branch - 12/21/24, 4.33 PM.m4a

I feel a little uneasy, a little unnerved.

uneasy (scratch vocal) - 1/15/25, 9.11 AM.m4a

We write songs about mental illness and the horrors of end-stage capitalism couched vaguely behind metaphors culled from childish conceptions of being haunted and/or allusions to obscure passages from classic literature or cultural mythologies. Our music has zero commercial viability, but it is a labor of love and necessity. It is also an outlet for thoughts best not kept inside, but that should probably be whispered rather than shouted.

The sound should be that of engaging in a small, jarring, but well-intentioned conversation on the subject of the various things that can eat you alive from the bottom-most link of the top of the food chain. 

We should sound like two introverts on the verge of killing themselves but who made a handful of quiet, desperate songs instead (and if only for now). The listener should suspect there used to be a drummer and a guitarist but those two jumped from the building rather than burning alive inside it. 

Most music written for two basses and two voices, but found objects are rarely excluded.

Honey from the carcass of a lion

knock-kneed