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I wrote an evil song,
but you didn’t know the words yet.
Couldn’t sing along,
but your hands were slick with blood.
The hesitant were gone,
left with the genuine and fervent.
Spoke in secret tongues to communicate as a forest.

Tonight is the last night they’ll leave either of us alive,
onwards toward a clear-cut, manslaughter, bunker-busting bribe,
blacklisted barbarians beyond the bosom of the borders.
we’re out here alone.

I wrote an evil song,
but you didn’t know the words yet,
Put your hands together if you know how this ends.
Tonight we’re sliding blades,
into our hungry hearts.
They make claim to my life,
I’d rather tear myself apart.

Pray tell, officer. Where’s the medicine?
Under lock and key and dead like skeletons.
This is the sacred rite, my religion of incidence,
there are no rules, only experience.


from All of Them Witches, released December 21, 2012




Arroyo Deathmatch Albuquerque, New Mexico

evil folk for evil folks

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