Formless​/​Shapeless

by Tharsis They

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02:04

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released December 24, 2014

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Tharsis They Michigan

"If you like metal-infused post-hardcore like Converge, Botch and Trap Them, boy oh boy, are you gonna love Tharsis They. Somehow these guys manage to both out-hardcore and out-metal all of the aforementioned bands to concoct a sonic stew of thrashy, gnarly, gut-punching brutality." - Metalsucks.net ... more

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Track Name: Wicked Response
captor and prisoner, owner and chattel. a violent fiend of unslakable hunger. seized from the living world, enslaved and terrorized. a living hell of unspeakable horrors. chained and roped, forced to obey this master. drained of hope, and deprived of the sun. a decade of rape and abuse, forced abortions with punishing blows. stripped of autonomy, and fed fear, pain and coercion until helplessness is learned. and for years they'd remain hidden beyond the walls. remain hidden, beyond the walls of a suburban facade. at the hands, innocent lives at the hands of a sick fucking monster. trapped within a godless void, left to the nothing. days spent crying and screaming, there's no salvation. thinking of the countless days you stole from human lives makes me want to recreate the living hell of your design. just to watch you suffer, in utter torment, begging for your life. there will be no retribution, no reprisal for their cries. and what I would give to see you tortured on the rack, in the name of that newborn child conceived in hell on earth.
Track Name: Suitable Appellation
repeat the repetitive motion (repeat, repeat). indulge in this mundane existence with only a shred of hope. tell the talking heads I'm running late and won't let it happen again. tell 'em I've been dragging this anchor through a field of thorns on a bed of nails. no need to worry, we can pick up right where we left off. no need to worry, i'm out here all alone. surely there's a process, a procedure, a contingency plan. some short-sighted, able-bodied method of reclamation. anesthetize. desensitize. channels programmed to swarm and thwart, endlessly teeming with pull and force. obstructed inequities, exceedingly unclear. numbers in sequence, a measured dose of fear. I am stricken with this bout of unshakeable lethargy perfectly content to wallow in self-defeat. in the comfort, in the spoils of which some will never know. too selfish to recognize, too numb to follow through. privileged with the time and ability to even be able to contemplate these shortcomings, and doing so while living well beyond my means. no need to worry, we can pick up right where we left off. no need to worry, the good lord hears our prayers. while I lie dormant in the throes of self-loathing those less fortunate find joy in all I take for granted.
Track Name: New World Vultures
misgiving's misfortunes in the wake of countless acts of horror. exceeding the threshold of that which cannot be ignored. bend back the bows, ignite the flames, release a swarm of arrows. disregard the threshold to those deserving certain death. lead them to the shores where they'll fall victim to the paralyzed preying eyes. left for dead to be forsaken upon return. now dig, dig deeper, dig your grave alone. dig, dig deeper, or be left to decompose. as the vultures tear away at the bowels and the entrails of your rotting corpse. as the vultures tear the flesh straight from the bone of your lifeless, worthless rotting corpse. no casket, no funeral, no final words or prayers. no headstone, no epitaph, no fucking cross to bear.
Track Name: The Felling
entranced by the brilliance of a thousand blazing suns. a sudden heightening of senses swarm in the over abundance of natural light. upon the felling of the ultraviolet, unknown in the oncoming shadows. and in the wavering light of torches i drink from the poisoned chalice. obey the call of command, called forth from the teeth in the sand. summoned by a snare of whispers, blindly lead to the edge of the boiling sea. frozen with prosaic fright, perfectly still in the recesses of night. a sudden heightening of senses swarm in the faint diminution of natural light. we lie formless, shapeless. reflections we choose not to see. with our focus, focus not on function or rationality but on the mechanical rhythm of... on the mechanical rhythm of... but on the mechanical rhythm of a beating heart, a ticking clock. lost in the shadow of crosses created by men, sleepless sons of the earth rest well with dreams of inhabiting the clouds. lost in the shadow of crosses created by men, sleepless sons of the earth rest well with dreams of colonizing the heavens.