1. |
Grief Tourist
01:54
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In a house as empty as white, three pairs of shoes are left on the doorstep. First, swallowed by the night; second, to a virile force of theft; third, a baptism by blood and iron. All doors unbothered to be open and nothing inside can be taken anymore.
In the house, as caring as light, where none of it is left in you.
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2. |
Helicopter Addict
02:23
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“Observe my arms grow colossal, witness my fingers cut the earth.”, you yelled one day while twiddling thumbs across a long, righteous hollow. You stood up to see a glass floor, and thousands of palms pressed on it. As you were still, the room seems to be moving.
You’ve learned that one day you will sink to the floor, and will let the palms take hold of your breath. My eyes are but the windows on the walls.
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3. |
Rogues' Gallery
02:02
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Crickets wrought in cacophony, boots rallied in dozens: slow, and known. The devil will prey on one of us tonight. The river hushes my wounded kin, hunched under canopies to catch our breaths.
I look at you, surrendered and true. Devils don’t sleep; the evening sprawling on your eyes that’s shut. My tongue tastes metallic, and I’m no longer tired.
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4. |
The Worst
01:48
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I wish I could climb down this chair and touch the ground. I’ve been here since I can remember. But let me tell you, I know how the ground feels like from the looks on your faces, how you squirm in its touch, how you fold. I’m ever in awe!
I’ve been here since I can remember. But let me tell you, I’d rather die here than get my feet soiled.
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5. |
Body Horror
02:24
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Scared to be starving, scarred to be succoured; insane to be something dead spent to my soul! Gazing from the back of my head, constructs passed through and by my hands are of my devise. Vacuous musings only rob me of more time to find means to keep myself alive. Forever, I will covet what’s not mine.
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6. |
Lumpen Culturati
02:46
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Since you’ve seen them in the gardens, you’ve insisted that you were also a snail. You wore a cardboard box on your back, and started crawling on the floors whenever you were called. You slid on your spit when you moved around.
One day, a man with bleeding hands showed up in the gallery, and saw a box on the floor. Curious, he tried to move the box but he felt something was under it. He lifted it slowly and saw, as the darkness is peeled, that nothing is there. Looking up to the ceiling, then to the walls, to the floor, everything was enveloped by your skin.
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7. |
Infernal Manila
03:35
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Among ash gradients and unlived homes are the sepulcher of time that’s left. The blistering sun have started to melt the wax monuments we hold dear.
Countdown to non-being! Set fires to the living!
Among nebular deaths and saboteurs, what remained of us are the offenders. The manicured halls with swine on the doors should be the first one to be burned!
We wished for this, the sun to never set on us. At least we’ll all die in summer.
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8. |
Exquisite Corpse
05:26
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I’ve held on to hostility for too long; primordial, born of scorn. I refused to see what you have done before, yet I’m shadowing all your wrongs.
This house was built on moving sand, on coasts washed by unremembering tides. I glanced at the stretch of the shore, and for so long that we thought this house was alone, were neighbored by millions, all collapsing to the waves. Your violence was there: in your guise and in culled futures; coursing through our veins are your fetid red.
In our house, as empty as life, where none of it was left in you.
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Limbs recommends:
The Trial of the Tyrants and the Verdict in the Eve of Victory
by gallows
Post-rock hangmen out to get dictators.
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Walang Panginoon ang Lupa
by Artista ng Rebolusyong Pangkultura
Anti-feudal and anti-fascist peasant advocate compilation. #LandToTheTillers
go to albumIf you like Limbs, you may also like:
Orange Mathematics
by Frontierer
supported by 30 fans who also own “Exquisite Corpse”
Quite possibly the most full-on album I've ever listened to. Intense, and then some. 'Digital Tarpit' could describe both the track and the whole album: high-pitched guitar squeals that make your fillings itch coupled with merciless, suffocating heaviness. The Avenell-esque vocals top it off perfectly. Brilliant - punishing, but brilliant.
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Derramar | Querer | Borrar
by MASSA NERA
Massa Nera makes '00s-style screamo that strikes a balance between delicate intricacy and heavy passion.
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Toronto band Respire deliver a post-hardcore tour de force on the largest scale possible, orchestrally rich and incessantly uncompromising.
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