- Shorties With Mp 40's, The Personal Is The Political
Our sisterhood is a vast and powerful ocean, a deep well of true meaning sustaining consistent and conflicting emotions and giving life value, while the constant flow of the tides caress the sides of impassive rock and create the contours of interaction that touch every layer of society.
We are free! free of your necrophilic hatred of life. free of your all-in-my-head self doubt. endless is our journey through trackless void, shapeless is our movement, assuming any and all forms, elemental is our force gaining wisdom in the face of desolation, and joyful is the sound of medusa's laughter ringing in our ears. although we have been exploited as passive pawns in the mad dash to domination, not even the heaviest most painful nor the most subtle and gilded manacles will keep us imprisoned in the home or racked with guilt over self realization and self control, neither can we be constrained beneath a glass ceiling in the rat race of your job world. patriarchy ends here. wisdom is attained in the face of utter destruction. and the joyful sound of medusa's laughter rings in our ears.
Letras
- An Age Imprisoned
Another World Is Inevitable
Belt Of Fire To Guide Me, Cloak Of Night To Hide Me
Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos
Breakin' Up The Heart Of a Girl
Burning Black Coals And Dark Memories
By Endurance We Conquer
By Every Hand Betrayed
Don't Vote
Fleurs de Mal
Fucking Chained To The Bottom Of The Ocean
Grissecon
Here I Stand Head In Hand
I Am The Leviathan
I Was Ignored. And Judged. And Cast Down
Loneliness Dances In The Gorgon's Stare
Monstrance
Out Of The Mouth Of a Fool
Paroled In '54
Prometheus
Rats And Mice And Swarms Of Lice
Screaming At a Wall
Shorties With Mp 40's, The Personal Is The Political
Smoke Pigs
The Bleeding Genitals Of Every Rapist Hang Bleeding From These Trees
The Butcher's Bill
The Defeatist's Lament
The Eyes Of The World Are Upon You
The Road Of Many Names
The Song Of Illuminate Darkness
The Work Ethic Myth
Their Hooves Carve Craters In The Earth
They Stretch Out Their Hands
Tyrant
Voices In The Wilderness
What Blood Still Flows From These Veins
With a Cold, Life Extinguishing Elegance