Pines from Stale Mates by Yachtburner

Big stripes of cut, All the way down
I'm in the hole, I wear the crown,
One more day in the desert
One more night knowing nothing but sand
Picking rocks from the bone grind,
Burnt through the skull til I can't stand
Nothing burns like the sun,
Losing my mind, shouting it out,
Right next to no-one, Teased by the clouds
There's a river nearby,
Not out of sight but out of mind
The waters flow right over
But they weren't meant for my kind
( There's a snake in the basin
Spring's been carved by a rotten hand,
Sunken firm in the stone bed, just as it was planned
All grub comes cast off
Picking the flesh, at the centre of death,
tracing circles, ragged by the ground)

• Punk
• anti-folk
• evil
• loud
• post-metal
• sludge
• Melbourne