Vocals: | Winston McCall |
Guitars: | Jeff Ling |
Guitars: | Luke Kilpatrick |
Drums: | Ben Gordon |
Bass: | Jia O'Connor |
I
So it begins. Our eyes torn open. Free from the thorns of doubt. Free from our selfish confine. Our. Blood. Restless. Ceaseless. With open arms we stand before the dawn.
II
The sun seems to have been rising ever since I can recall. Lending a sense of permanence to this lying world. Your words, not worth the air. You life, not worth its weight in flesh. To hope for something more. To dream of substance. Like a million before us, waiting to die. Like a billion before us, waiting to die. Masochistic, to think this would be remembered.
Sadistic, perpetuation of stagnation. There is nothing as empty as waiting to die. We spend our lives wasting, as time eats us alive. The sun seems to have been falling ever since I can recall. The only sense of permanence in this dying world. Sit back and watch as time eats us alive. Everyone who knew me, destined to die. The marks I left upon this world will wash away.
III
In time. And so it ends. In time, it all finds an end. In time. And so it ends. In time, we all find an end. With broken arms and hollow eyes, await our return to oblivion. Embrace our last empty horizon. Horizons.
In the kitchen of the Byron Bay home of Winston McCall stands a refrigerator, adorned on one side by a quote from Tom Waits: "I …