Factory from Factory by broselle + naysh, Terrestrial Animal, bigbaldben

Born eighteen paces to your left —
I will die bereft.
Scratching the scabs until they mend,
bleed again.
Inhale the grime and grease the cogs
of an angry god.
Rebel against hulking machines,
so routine.

Who damned us all to be here,
huddled in this place.
Drains the light that breeds the soulless,
lost inside:
factory.

Don't get a little ray of hope,
when you find the rope.
The noose is tight, and ceilings high —
no way to climb.
Fury and rage assembly line,
guarantees decline.
The movement mocks the life we tend,
oh my friend.

Who damned us all to be here,
huddled in this place.
Drains the light that breeds the soulless,
lost inside:
factory.

• Rock
• alternative rock
• ambient rock
• indie rock
• instrumental rock
• post-rock
• psychedelic rock
• soundscapes
• Wilmington