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lyrics

I’ll burn my mortal years like fuel
Make a weapon of my pain and my madness into a tool
Caffeine, sugar, red-eye, snuff: Run my engines ragged and rough
This world hasn’t given me reason to play it cool
I can’t tell where the paint becomes a trail of blood
I’ve run my tracks so deep in flesh like ruts in the mud
I’m a bucket of failing bits I know,
This condition is tradition put your foot through the transmission
Shift, shift, shift
‘ere we go!
Gimme salt and iron in my maw
Grind my teeth like gears on words that cut like saws
I feel a stinging in the nostrils kinda like petrol fire I’m well aware
Of the ground I’m losing, slipping through my claw
Paint it red the faster to its death it goes
This condition is tradition put a cork in the emission and
Shoot, shoot shoot
Backfire, ‘ere we go!

credits

from The Comedy of Forms, The Tragedy of Function, released February 26, 2020

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Goblin Hovel

A genre-defying band that entails the cooperation of several artists from several bands of several genres under the direction of a nameless Goblin. They present a view of the modern world through the lens of history, mysticism, and mischief.

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