Open hands with closed eyes. Your mouth is hung wide open. Feeding us with your lies. Your ideals. They are broken. Lost inside your greed. So blind. You cannot see. Lunacy. Is all you speak to me
You are a failure. You are the cancer. You are everything we've learned to fucking hate. You are a failure. You are the cancer. That lives inside of me
The mouth of a serpent. And all you spit is lies. Now your worlds coming down on you. Your untimely demise.
All you speak. Not one truth. All you spit are lies
supported by 10 fans who also own “Hands Of A Tyrant”
The sonic beauty of a great cat in the wild coexisting with the feeling of being mauled by said cat. Not my usual thing... But this is so simultaneously brutal and melodic that I can't get enough. Millwall D.
supported by 10 fans who also own “Hands Of A Tyrant”
If anyone thought hardcore was dead, Purgatory lets us know it is very much alive and enraged. What started with Suicidal Tendencies in the 80s and rose to prominence with Biohazard (and so many more great bands) in the 90s continues to rage on. I'm raging with them . . . until the war against ignorance and greed and lies and hypocrisy and inequality and all those awful, evil -isms is won. Diogenes Grief