Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me… Bollocks. My ability to dream, to subconsciously project a halo, a mythological landscape of freedom, has been amputated, terminally obliterated by my own self. I’m a chained slave to permafrost of shrapnel, a bloated larva-wound that has been eating me since day one for which I have got no escape or some deeper understanding but foggy rock of death. Have one for yourself, boy.
Masses & Death Church - Split