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DRUB

by DRUB

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1.
Down into the never ending pits of harlequin honesty I have been searching for what those say, “the more knowledge you have of it, the harder ‘it’ is to attain.” I search knowing the futility of the goal’s unattainable purity. I want what mere euphemistic descriptions of its beauty imply. I loathe the actions taken to those who cross outdated moral codes. I speak in faltered vibrations, soon breathing will be illegal. I wait down in the furthest empty chambers, just me and some walls. I dream of the fall or think of nothing at all. I cross tainted swamps of blood, decay and disgust. I dream of the slaughter of those who abuse mistrust. Dancing in this takaru soiree, guerdoned in manacles of social decay I wait for the sun to rise on the authority at bay. To those that say a savior will return some day. To those that celebrate homosexuality in a parade. To those that feel depressed and alone. To those that fight wars “there” so we don’t have to at home. To those that put a price on life support. To the ones that refuse to retort. You’re just laying and consuming, lethargically, affluently and slowly growing deeper in the dirt. When filth and corruption become accepted and coprophilia becomes couture. A religious burial of religion. An abundance of hopeless structures of meat and bone, destined to die alone. Atone for the crypt of false belief. Always remember that we never believed the world was flat, sheep before us did. Intrinsic monotony predisposed to uncouth decomposition into the void. Meanwhile camouflaging terror with decoys. I’d say that mainstream anything is irksome. I have entered the tomb with an inevitably erroneous welcome. Crouching in a small metal case stained with elder cum. Finding laughter in the crippled and dumb, the only instinct learned is the practice of the infant sucking the thumb. Irresponsible, uncontrollable, gaseous and invisible, deniably unquestionable, grotesquely orgasmic, suffocation, face wrapped in plastic. Stitches to a wound, all your beliefs are ceramic. A black ejaculation, cataclysmic havoc with no one to grasp it. On my stomach, beaten and ravaged gasping for moisture, sacrilegious torture, nauseating torment, unthinkable portent, not even a scavenger’s portion. A happy thought abortion, an intimate disfiguration extolling rational pillage, state lines, human time, Christianity, politics, and a line of scrimmage. Deadened existence lineage, struggling for hysterics merit, chew down to the cartilage and organize the peasants to perish. It is never any one thing is it? The thing forever searched, the information learned creates confusion until one day it makes sense, to look for it is ignorance.

about

This is just the first track of a two track release. The second track is too long for Bandcamp. I can't get the file under the maximum size no matter how much I compress it. To listen to the second track, go over to www.soundcloud.com/drubblackejaculation. If you want a physical copy of this release email me at robertmc1216@hotmail.com for more information.

credits

released October 1, 2010

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DRUB Midlothian, Texas

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