Burn this place to the ground.
This ain’t my kind of town.
Gone are my guests, filed away,
Lost in the throes of time.
Brush all my debts and flames of the day,
Away with the tears of my crimes.
For my masterpiece disastrously became a mountain of dust.
And I’m hastily, distastefully converting the mud into rust.
It’s time to wish the city goodbye,
And steer this ship to the land.
I’ll find new apples for my eye and
Paper for my hands.
Fill the cracks and mount the tracks,
And leave this tycoon behind.
Start again with a classic brain,
And a renovated mind.
Shake my hand and take my hat,
Before I take it back.
A bequest at my request,
Will fund our plan of attack.
Your anatomy is rapidly bearing fruit as sweet as my tooth.
And we’re gratefully, disgracefully filling pockets with personal truth.
Fill the cracks with melted wax,
We’re brewing a new storm.
This classic mind, now redefined,
Attacking like a swarm.
We’ll be kings above all kings,
Let’s toast our craft with open wings.
Mop these suds inside your throat,
This pungent broth will help you float.
Goodbye young tool, my deputy.
My creature of necessity.
I must admit to scraps of pain,
Your passing will not be in vain.
I’m sorry young children, I thought I could help you
But you’re only slowing me down.
I’m sorry for all of your heartache but it would be
Better if you’re not around.
Fill the cracks with beaten tracks,
I’m disappearing today.
This classic mind, now redefined,
Reduced to frenzied decay.
An album of songs created with a late friend of mine, released in his memory. All proceeds with be donated to CRY (Cardiac Risk in the Young) Joe Bailey
The Long Island metal band's third album etches arena-sized hooks into their jagged compositions, deftly balancing experimental and poppy inclinations. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 12, 2022