Self Titled
by False Light
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 6-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now $7 USD
1. |
Rotting Teeth
01:18
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2. |
Almighty Thief
00:37
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3. |
The Great Unwashed
01:16
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4. |
Lung
02:50
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5. |
Praxis
01:40
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6. |
///
05:47
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about
Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by Cory Fallows
credits
released 12 June 2012
False Light is:
Brian - Guitar
Tyler - Drums
Issy - Bass
Patrick - Vocals
False Light is:
Brian - Guitar
Tyler - Drums
Issy - Bass
Patrick - Vocals
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for about
South Carolina based Powerviolence.
Order our S/T 7" EP from:
US -
headfirstrecords.limitedrun (dot) com
UK - deadchemists.bigcartel (dot) com
Download our S/T EP from Mediafire: /?1ltcdcwvc9zk2s1
(copy and paste to the end of Mediafire URL)
... more
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, click here.
- Track Name: Rotting Teeth
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Caged, cut. Breed, bleed.
Teeth stained red, grave of a body.
Life of misery. We are the vermin.
Defending genocide, grim ritual.
Under the knife or on your plate,
murder is murder no matter how you dissect it.
Blind to hell, while you choke on it.
Blind to hell, as you rot. - Track Name: Almighty Thief
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Eyes pried open,
praying to cope with
being the prey of no one.
Wanting to feel
the weight lifted when you kneel.
Clouds crushing my chest, crawling on my hands
Dirt in my eyes, desperate and damned.
If this rope wasn't splitting, I'd tie myself up.
I've lived long enough. - Track Name: The Great Unwashed
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Ignorance, spreading filth.
Unjust anger that decays.
You turn your head, indifferent
to the evil you provoke
Bitter hatred, foolishness.
Crawl back to the frigid ground.
Feeling cold, growing old.
Mind to help, no hands to use.
What a grim existence you lead.
Feed, feed. Blacken the air you breathe.
Ignorance, spreading filth.
Unjust anger that decays.
Shut your eyes, close your fist.
Who's the fucking coward here? - Track Name: Lung
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Cancer of a concept. My thoughts; a eulogy.
Leech in my lungs I can't exhale.
Answers out of fear.
Better a hole in my head than this nihilism.
Colors bleed, the charm of death.
Drenched in filth, inherent grief.
Afraid of the curtains, but I pull them shut.
Did the clouds pollute my mind?
Hollowed out, dreadful, numb.
Pain of life, helplessness of death.
Wander, wilting.
Void of value.
Diseased, directionless. - Track Name: Praxis
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No nails in your hands, but they're forced in the dirt.
Witless. Docile. Dragged with the herd.
You bathe in blood. You scum, you worthless swine.
Guilty where you stand. Murder of the mind.
Empty fucking stomach from vomiting lies.
Your heaven is a prison and your cross a disguise.
Your words that you've bastardized.
My bastard eyes you've cauterized.
Clawed my tongue from my mouth, silencing my cries.
You're just a crook.
Crooked as your smile.
I see your false gaze, that whisper of fear.
Deeper and deeper, you dig the world's grave.
Deeper and deeper, just the work of a slave.
(Lifeless eyes open, wilt as you enslave.)
Twisting your words. Counterfeit truth.
Twisting your words, tie up your noose. - Track Name: ///
- Long in tooth, low and lost. Withering away.
