The streetlights away, as they guide us home.
Another night in the bottle,
another night spent sleeping under stranger's tongues.
Heads in the clouds, feet in the grave.
Growing pains, smoker's lungs.
God never wasted his time on us.
Down the streets we paved with our broken bones, under the streetlights shine we swayed alone.
Bottle in hand, and a cigarette on the tips of our tongues.
We outdrank the dawn,
pushed back that fucking rising sun,
that smoke curled around our necks,
as he turned to me and he said:
"If you want the truth, these years are choking tight,
they are the weight in my heart,
and the rings under my eyes.
No. I am not alright."
Years pass and old paths cross, one more worn than the others.
His smile was painted on with dirt.
"I let this rut become my grave, my friend.
i don't want my mark on the world
to be the pockmarks in my veins."
Featuring founding vocalist Jesse Zaraska for the first time since 2004, the Milwaukee veterans' seventh album is a metalcore monster. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 12, 2020
Fusing ’90s metalcore, ’00s vaporwave, and ’20s cybergrind, the Texans' debut showcases an unprecedented unholy trinity. Bandcamp New & Notable May 17, 2023