So here I am. All thoughts are toxic.
Like dampness sticks to a wall.
Life is stale, therefore I'm stale.
Stuck inside, home alone.
I am just growing mold.
Smell that sour? I think I’m dying.
My insides ain’t staying gold.
Liver shakes, eyes radiate.
Not asleep, but still as stone.
I am just growing mold.
Here I sit. Still as the fucking moon.
Empty, silent and cold like doom.
All I crave. All I crave. All I crave is peace,
Clear eyes, and thirst for youth.
supported by 6 fans who also own “This Relaxed Fit”
This album is packed to the brim with content. Every track is a unique journey, and seems to correspondingly reflect different influences. Fans of seminal mathcore bands like Converge, Botch, and Every Time I Die won't wanna miss this. To quote one of our users: "Best $1 ever spent." Christian Segerstrom