1. |
Batworm Tape
06:23
|
|||
|
"Batworms"
Putrid and rotten these nights months and years
Blackened and boiled, fuzzed out and seared
Covered in these things that smell like a still
They harvest my body, they beg me to kill
We terrorize and vomitize
With bourbon blood and crimson eyes
This villany, a travesty
It's now the only life I see
Partially murdered incessantly, my history
A skull filled with batworms
Lungs filled with fleas
Lairs like dungeons, my graveyard of flies
Morbid tales and Motorhead, the crow caws inside
It's summoning and conjuring the bleak, bruised and slime
This harrowing, and sickening, insane drunken time
Green growth on open sores
Drown it down in booze
These demons days, a gory haze
A rite I can't refuse
It's villainy, mentality
All smoke and screams and noise
Obsessed by these batworms, confined to abuse
Shades of green grasses die
Boys or girls sniffing terpentine
A gaze above, a nightmare glows
Living here you'll always grow mold
"Hickory Hashknife"
One in the blade
Two in the handle
My organ festers
Pressed in a chair
You say I'm poisoned
I'll call it hunched
The hash reeks of pavement
And boils and narcotics
This room's a mess
Yellow-green gauze
I'll chop it up small
And watch the snakes hatch
A blighted sound
That moans to get high
A skeleton
An ashtray sky
I'll call this living
You say I'll die
One in the blade
One in the fucking blade
Hickory Hashknife
"Gritted to the Bone"
Seared to the core
Can't get high no more
Bleak, lost and grey
Gritted by these days
The dry day hits
This moonover kills
A morning of rye
A dinner of pills
My dirt and skin
Must reek inside
A spine depraved
With ooze and grime
"Summon the Crow"
Bloodlust night
Day's demise
Ground is cold
The night's invoke
Skin is raw
By moon's deceit
And whiskey hex
Purge this body
Stench of nausea
Stench of lies
Up in smoke
Rusty brain, thoughts haze
Ashtray of soiled organs
All loss of control
My grip I can't hold
Summon the Crow
"Flamethrower"
I need a flamethrower
Any size will do
A burning brain, a flaming rain
My eyes rolled back with glue
My larynx sore, my fingers raw
This thing has been to hell and back
I'm drenched alone, the ground is stone
A realm of whiskey, a realm in fact
|
||||
Batworm Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
bleaked out philly grime
maimed by mash
rust and hash
contact at skullfilledwithbatworms@gmail.com
If you like Batworm, you may also like:
If I Speak (Shut The Fuck Up)
by SOUL GLO
featured on Bandcamp Radio Sep 15, 2023
go to album
Sandcastle’s 2012 album gets a sorely needed reissue, it’s oddball pop arrangements still sounding ahead of their time.
go to album
Benefit For Prevention Point
by Strange Mono
Six Philly punk bands, including Mesh and Added Dimensions, offer new tracks to benefit harm reduction nonprofit Prevention Point.
go to album
Producer/songwriter Benjamin Schurr blends the medieval with the industrial in Rush, writing harrowing songs with a mystical aura.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 28, 2023
go to album
Collaborating with notable guests ranging from poet Lora Mathis to living legend Shirley Manson, HIRS deliver a near-continuous polyvocal barrage for 30 straight minutes.
go to album
Beer Breakfast Dungeness Crab - S/T
by Beer Breakfast Dungeness Crab
Smash your head on the snarling riffs and jagged-edged jamming of Philly miscreants Beer Breakfast Dungeness Crab.
go to album
