Album: Prologus (2013)

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Song: Wet Like Clay... Opening Of Oculi

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Contemplative catharsis from inebriated tendrils, groaning from the hills of Northwestern Pennsylvania; part one of a magnum opus, transmuting blackened fragments of hardcore punk, metal, and industrial metal into a fevered Sci-Fi narrative.

Crowbra is the conceptual brainchild of N. King, multi-instrumentalist, drummer for long-running Pennsylvania hardcore acts, and occasional collaborator with MagGot of MagGot films.

The project is meant to be realized as a two part soundtrack to a very personal metaphysical Science Fiction narrative, which provided lyrical content as well as a conceptual framework for the record. The first half of the work is addressed in "prologus" whereas the second half and conclusion will be addressed in the future release of "epilogus."

Recorded in the heart of a drunken, Northern Pennsylvania winter. The final mixes were then fully realized by Jack Control at enormous door mastering (Darkthrone, poison idea, World burns to death)

Lyrics to prologus :

A Flicker
And Sleepless eyes darted
Filth and rags
And rat shit, it must've been somewhere

There had been a rat
It was nosing
With glimmering eyes and no conscience
Shitting as it pleased, paying no mind
Nosing among open graves
Bodies strewn
Led by the snout
Eyes seeing grey

Clutching the thumbs and gritting the teeth
The smell of shit and vomit
Not his
Sleepless eyes agonized and pink
Like the rats tail
Eyes seeing grey, mind seeing color
Colors of pain and complexity
Maze of why

Beneath the streets he lay
Forced below, looked over, passed by
The dead lay strewn, trampled like hay
Wet like clay
Much like clay
Thrown about like a mud fight

Dreams secede and come again
Like receiving signals through matted hair
Signals were manufactured and conceived
Outside and within
The brain throb was real
It tore and rattled like tentacles seizing
Myriad tentacles
Tentacle of mind and the tentacles outside
Chinese eyes
Stereotypes that's what they were

The underground was damp, the clay fit in
The temperature was cold, the lighting was dim
Among great arches the bodies were strewn
Aggregate and grey, cracks of illustrated lightning
The ceiling chapelious and open
Round as a womb,
Harboring a sickening fetus

Below the streets.. were paved with the dead
Above the streets.. Fog clung to cyborgs
Frozen forever, warm.. Cold
Bugs did not sing, Birds hadn't wings, the sky was as coffin interior
Caught in the puss of earth

Below quartz and pyroxene glimmer reflective light
Shone from puddles
Pools of blood and water, sewage and earth, and whispered death rattles, frozen in liquid matrix
Tragic injection of cell, forever changing its composition, like beer after hops
Beneath was another world, altered now in this moment
This moment interpreted through sleepless eyes

Like the eyes of those rodents, chewing through clay
Nothing could survive above, because of the puss, it was suffocating, and it smothered everything
The rats were here
I know they were, he knew they were
His 1930s eyes saw them, and the clay they were chewing through
Molding like H. A. Wilcox
Changing composition
They smelled the shit, he smelled the shit, and imagined the shit of theirs

These pools were mirrors
He needed to rise, his body was forced and lead
He had fallen weak and pretended himself dead

The consciousness was flooding back,
Ice bath
Pain has the same effect

He remained seated
A brain flicker
A glimmer, like a mineral fucking a puddle
Glowing like the coal of ghost
She was dead
He knew it, she probably smelled like here
Like shit, and rat shit
It was a shame

It was so hard to get up
To rise, to the Fuhrer
Leader of mind
It's easier to get up when the Tv isn't on
His clothes were rotting and cold, colder than as if one were nude
Why arise?

Too many thoughts, too much complexity
Wrestling him down, lifting him up
The future is magnetic, like a blind mouse smelling cheese
Pulling us in like black holes do
Sucking on our screenplays like a straw on a vacuum
We are fuel for someone, we are blood for vampires
To keep going as the bottom half of a figure eight
Integral, pulsing upward, binary pulsing
Adding up to something, used
The Digitites stole us
They stole him
Sucked in

There were few selected
To perpetuate elsewhere
They were so much selected as they had selected themselves
It was implanted in our strands
One great mitosis, forced to fuck and fight
While we looked under microscopes and watched the same thing happen.
Fascinated by motivation, for our own was never understood
Purposeful perpetuation
Leading the rats through mazes, while we are lead through our own

8 great colonizers
Titanic vessels
Off to no great work
Strewn to the sky
Like a seed head taken by the wind
Gone in a roar, leaving few behind, below
Fleeing a ruined crop, a diseased monoculture
Seeking fresh soil
And so the wheel turns, the serpent eats its tail
The selected knew of the destination, it was hidden from lay man
Those of us forced beneath
It was superfluous to save us all, unnecessary
Only one seed must find the egg
And so the second child will be born

His gaze saw through walls, through vaulted ceilings
Still unable to rise, staring at thoughts, seeing everything and nothing
Visions, liquid and strobing
Visions in color, sight in grey
Like flashes of a dream
Like the puddles sending dim light dancing
A mournful retrospective
Jester in court of dead king
Remembering was masturbation, now emasculation
Concurrently confirmation
Suspects were now sentenced
The period came after the sentence
He knew it all along
This manning of gears and fanning of coals
The whistle blows for the blind engineer
To ourselves we have been strangers
Ourselves we've never met
The soul of a robot shaking hands with its shell
Like the spring beneath the earth as its waters being drunk
And all that crude oil that sent us to and fro
Devoid of personification, objective, stark and real
The truth to our existence
We are binary fuel