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Holy Roar Records


by Modern Rituals

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released April 12, 2019


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Modern Rituals London, UK


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Track Name: Alfredo Snivellin
Peeling back the skin on his left index finger

From the nail to the bone, staring at the younger boy.

Crunched a nut while watching, the little boy was screaming

And chasing a bee, so innocently.

Mother taps on the window,

Urging him to stop.

He’d yearn for him if he could find

Some kind of competence.

The younger sibling’s nose drooped down like a hose,

Dripping if not for his constant snivelling.

If he could catch a day might finally get his way

And take off in a ride in a car.
Track Name: Great Terror
Leave your finger prints on the holes in your hair,

Once on your head now on the floor.

You tore up yours, bald boy.

Try the innocent, they’ll be back for you.

Tear out their hair like angora fur.

Scratch your way through their pain.

Something cracked with so few memories.

They came in the dead of the night.

Old Miss Fear, clearly weird,

We couldn’t work out why so sincere.

Her legs coated in a texture like sand,

She carries the cross in her hand.

Leave your finger prints on the knob of the door.

The hair on your head, once on the floor,

From the body there, now still.
Track Name: Shroud The Works
Used up my conscience on the earth, sapped and drained for a cog in the works.

Screwed by a wrench, gripped and forced round, slow but sure.

Buckled body of man, gripped and forced around.

Once dragged along, now forced to overcome.

Melted like the frost over years by the works.

Prospered in the corners, now broken and bruised.

Can’t live without it, I’m dwelling in the shrouds.

With no sleep to be found, black dog unsound.

But on it goes.

Buckled body of man, whipping post attached.

Open and bare, lines mark the way out.
Track Name: Thick Wall
I am behind a thick wall

Put myself here for the noise.

The faint sound of wailing

Of someone far away.

The thick wall is all

Between night and day.

Nothing reminds me of being behind the thick wall.

The eye that sags dangerously

Hangs loose, vicariously.

What it sees is what it becomes.

That eye sags behind

And over the wall.

Nothing reminds me of being behind the thick wall.

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