Worms In Your Throat

by Kinesthesis

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02:00
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01:33
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03:04
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credits

released April 25, 2017

Angus - guitar
Crispin - vocals
Kit - drums

BLIND IDIOT RECORDINGS

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Kinesthesis

Grinding death metal from the Dandenong Ranges, Australia.

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Track Name: Worms In Your Throat
Worms in your throat.
Kicking, thrashing, choking.
Muffled voices laughing, joking.
Your legs bound, your hands in ties.
And gravel shovelled into your eyes.
Pressure building, ribs breaking.
Vermin defiling, soil piling.
Buried, dug up, gasping for breath.
Your eyes searching frantically.
But all they see is enclosing death.

Locked away.
Tortured and maimed.
Trapped alive.
Waiting to die.
Eating your shit.
Every last bit.
Naked.
Bleeding.
Tired.
Freezing.

Locked away, tortured and maimed.
Piss splashed in your face.
Trapped alive, waiting to die.
Pointlessly wondering why.
Eating your shit. Every last bit.
Better than nothing at all.
Naked., bleeding, tired, freezing.
Covered in piss-soaked soil.
Worms burrow, leeches suck.
Spiders crawl in your ears.
Cut up, strung out, castrated, beaten.
Made to watch as your pets are eaten.
Eaten.

Torn into pieces, then sown back together.
These methods of abuse keep getting better and better.
Worms in your throat.
Choke, release, choke, release, kept just barely alive.
Visions of dirt blur and fade into blackness.
Feeling like you won't survive.
Worms in your throat.
Track Name: Refleshing
Muscles gone,
Organs gone,
Skin gone,
Fat gone.

You’ve been defleshed; you skeleton, you’re dead.
Your brain’s rotting, rotting outside of your head.
No blood flow, no pulse within your flesh,
Because you’ve got no more flesh left.

Refleshing.

A new beginning comes after your death.
A fresh kit of flesh with your name on it.
A donor’s come forward, unwilling but able.
Stripped of what’s needed on the butcher’s table.

Forced introduction of new tissue.
A crude replacement of flesh.
Muscles tacked right onto the bone,
Organs forced straight into your chest.

Your body restored, at least from the outside.
A skin-wrapped prize to feed to the half-blind.
A sack of used sinews, tendons and nerves.
You’re sewn up and tied shut, sealed and preserved.

Refleshing.

You have been refleshed.
But you’re still dead.
A worthless fucking stack of bones wrapped in a mockery of life.
But you're still dead.
Track Name: Eight Shades Of Hate
Starting with a fine incision.
I cut your eyes and fuck your vision.
Another cut and they're separated.
Your failing sense of hope is extirpated.
The saw comes out, you feel it grate.
You've never had a better reason to hate.

You're blind, and bleeding.
Your hate is seething.
Can't restrain your breathing.
Irrational thoughts keep on breeding.

You want me gone.
More than you've wanted for anything else.
Your rage is strong.
But not stronger than the straps holding you down.

Eight shades of hate.
Destroying your brain.
Riddled with rage.
As your body drains.

Limbs tied down, firmly bound, to the damp ground.
Helpless.
Short of breath, close to death, but not dead yet.
Seething.

You're lacerated fucking everywhere.
I've given you these wounds and no-one fucking cares.

Eight shades of hate.
Destroying your brain.
Riddled with rage.
That feeds on the pain.

Bone by bone.
Breaking your will.
Inch by inch.
Until there's nothing left.
But bitter spite.
Pointless hate.
With no direction.

Hate for my flesh.
Hate for my mind.
Hate for my soul.
Hate for being blinded.
Hate for your helplessness.
Hate for my persistence.
Hate for this screaming pain.
Hate for this seething rage.

Eight shades of hate.
Destroying your brain.
Riddled with rage.
As you start to fade.
Track Name: Slave
You’ve been locked away.
Taken away from the life that you made.
You’re fucked, it’s over now.
It’s ended, you’ve ended, you’re nothing no more.

Tied in chains, kicked for days.
Get used to living your life as slave.
Trapped inside, going blind.
Starving to death is the end you will find.

Chasing your mind, chewing on flies.
Locked in a cage trying hard not to die.
Screaming for help, losing your self.
Scraping your nails on the walls of this cell.
Scratching your eyes, swallowing lice.
Shitting blood and spewing shit is your life.
Stuck in this hole, hating it all.
This never-ending world of shit is taking its toll.

Pulled from your home by unknown assailants.
The shitbags that bought you will remain nameless.
What happened to your family?
You’ll never find out, you’ll never be free.
Track Name: To The Grave
You shit-sucking coward, you vat of toxic waste.
You try to play the victim, now that you've had a taste.
There's blood on your hands, but you lack the conviction.
The rain wont wash away the stains of your addiction.

They will be with you forever.
What you have done, will be with you forever.
You will never be whole again.
Every thing that you are now, you peeled off of them.

You vacuous cunt, you rotting waste of skin.
They were barely alive when you slithered in.
You chalked it up to madness, only lying to yourself.
You felt a rush, warm blood.
Then the chill of death itself.

I see you fed to dogs in my dreams.
I laugh as your body pulls apart at the seams.
You can't face living with a burden of this size.
But nothing.
Fucking nothing.
Scares you more than that look in their eyes.

The eyes always staring.
Your mind is becoming a nest of vipers.
Always jumping at shadows.
They follow you as you crawl.
Slowly onwards to the grave.
To the grave...
Track Name: Manifest Wounds
Manifest wounds.
This body, a conduit.
For endless sores.
Curtains of burnt skin and nerves.
Struggling eyes.
Fighting over scraps of failing light.
Manifest wounds.
Endless sores.
Pointless, endless and increasing.
Enduring nonetheless.
One breath away.
From the next unbearable second.

Living through a lack of dying.
Knowing each new moment will be worse than the last.
Knowing it will not last long.
But lacking the will to end it sooner.
Embracing the unendurable.
Becoming the wounds that consume.
Convulsing embodiment of limitless pain.
As the skin tears open again and again.

Manifest wounds.
Proudly wearing endless sores.
Manifest wounds.
Becoming these endless sores.
Manifest wounds.
Slowly dying of these sores.