Sick of your existence. Soon the slate will wash clean. I survived through extermination. There's only one way this ends. Your actions cancel your words. Faulted by what you've done. I won't be a product of my surroundings. This environment will not consume me. Sick of every fucking waste of life I see - that won't be me. You made your choice. I should have kept my arms closed. Should never question my instincts. Despite what most people said, I always knew what you would turn out to be. Popularity reflects the ability not to stand on your own. The comfort of whoever worships you. Accept whoever you get. How does it feel to wake up everyday and know you're all the same . You have nothing that's your own. Not a trace of who you were, there's no chance for redemption. Now there's nothing left of you.
"Curse These Metal Hands" parlays the UK bands' chemistry into a record which—for all its tinnitus-inducing ferocity and elegiac arrangements—practically drips with transcendent joy. Bandcamp Album of the Day Aug 18, 2019