1. |
Erasure
05:06
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All that burns and is spent by time
All that copulates in daylight
All that's mine
I'm the war that you all made
I'm the tremor of an engine
I'm a broken wave.
And I'm drawing near
Dripping in fresh robes
In a ship of mud
On a lake of bones
And I hear the shrieking as I moor
Fill my urn with snakes and wine
Feel your fingers through the long grass but you won't reach mine
You will find me in the pine woods with the wealth you crave
We can feed upon our fears and call the dead by name
And I'm drawing near
Dripping in fresh robes
In a ship of mud
On a lake of bones
And I hear the shrieking as I moor
Wed me to the open sky I promise to stay faithful
And point my feet towards true night, where death eats at my table.
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2. |
Ortholithica
04:46
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Strive in vain
We'd steal the dying light from the horizon
It's all so vain
A nebula of smoke that's slowly rising
Bear the weight
Wood on our back will turn into a pyre
Time will wait
Our bodies are all traitors by design
Strive in vain
We'd steal the dying light from the horizon
Bear the weight
Wood on our back will turn into a pyre
Time will wait
Our bodies are all traitors by design
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3. |
Miasma
04:19
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A light, light through the reeds, twisting and hungry, carving darkness as it roams.
I'm blind, blinded by the beams, hoping the river will just claim me as it's own.
I fight, fight with fists and teeth, they call me the devil and the devil calls me home.
Crowd congeals around the gavel, to see what hell sent back unravelled, swing me forth or carry me home.
Told to swear on book and mother but I aint starting now your honour, swing me forth or carry me home.
Pollution of our common values, I count the steps down to the gallows, swing me forth or carry me home.
Preacher yells up that I'm callow, heathen in my heart and marrow, swing me forth or carry me home.
Drowning in the hands of others but I still call no man my brother, swing me forth or carry me home.
Gavel swings but loses order, all I see is brackish water, swing me forth or carry me home.
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4. |
Sunbather
03:39
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Sweat webbed on my face as I wake up and exhale
Caught between these clothes from howling birth to coffin nail
Cicadas just beyond the fence consume us with their hymn
As we're talking through our teeth and making love with phantom limbs
Trembling hand to collar in my famine in my flood
I will hold you like a river and turn you into mud
As these days start to moulder
Weeks unfurl in a torpor
As the crippled wings of night rot off the shoulder
Of the season that we spent just leaking from the mouth
Ambition's dissolution always stalks on padded feet
It's the clockwork of our flesh that I swore would not take me
My unlit futures echo through the gloaming of my years
Splinters of conceit, of hesitation and my fears
The forest breathes my body like some ragged highway fume
And conveys me to the door of the ocean's unmade tomb
As these days start to moulder
Weeks unfurl in a torpor
As the crippled wings of night rot off the shoulder
Of the season that we spent just leaking from the mouth
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Naked Waste Melbourne, Australia
Primarily composed and performed on the bass guitar, Naked Waste is wounded folk scaffolded with arctic digital percussion and a mist of disembodied vocals. Something tethered to the geography of disremembered places—a communion of wonder and dereliction. These places of influence are used as a kind of vocabulary for the human interior— for unstable landscapes of self. ... more
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