whisper:
weeping over our lives
in darkness, as billows roll,
morning for ourselves
that he might pity us,
hating ourselves
for what we are now.
voice:
All our words fall lifeless,
Broken down and soft,
Like a hawk without wings,
Pale tune without a song.
I recall when our words weren't so cold.

Innocent don't play here
Fields purged with bombs
Pouring fire on children
Will you buy yours another dog?
How can we suffer you any more?
chorus:
Where are our warriors
When all the guns are pointed
At our heads in the name of the law
To lawfully kill for profit?

All that I see are liars and thieves
Making the laws and making the wars.
On the TV they talk about peace
And we obediently pay for it all.

These psychopaths feed on power and greed
We can no longer be fucking around.
The warriors are here, the hour is near,
We'll put them in the cold, open ground.

name your price

Cold Open Ground

Experimental music project peripheral to art rock with a post rock lilt.


Cold Open Ground

The End Of Science