I'm quite annoyed at this bloke. He's one of the cool set from C'ford. Plenty more where that came from. I have no desire to profile him though, as I notice there are bigger groupers to barbeque. His project concerns, and I quote "the corpses of murdered pregnant women spontaneously delivering stillborn offspring". And just leaves it at that (?!). No context. No further thought. Oh, and he's an Anarchist apparently (read: Leftist). How very f**king ignominious.

That said, I've been known to like Death Industrial. Gentle hint: this is not Death Industrial.

Oh no no for this is 'Harsh Noise'.

In a nutshell, you could use it in Guantanamo for practical purposes. I often wonder if this young, suspiciously psychopathic oaf clambered out of one of those programs. I would rather listen to 20,000 kilohertz weapons-tech.

He'd asked me to record a track for his album. He came across as a potential fanboi. However, I suspected he wanted to piggy-back off my 'underground' "who the f**k is that guy?" reputation in that stupid town.

I wrote the track, utilizing some lyrics I've had lying around for a while. Ed the Ped had a go at this song also, wrecking it totally.

I spent ages on the mixing and mastering (going so far as to ask my regular audio engineer J. Stillings for assistance). I put the lyrics in a word file. I titled the track "Worlds Come Down". I stated that it was by Bleach For The Stars, if only to establish a little reverse marketing if any of his friends heard it.

At least he put it up at all. It's now called "Alligator Men", and is (prod-) by Vore Complex. Nice try, I suppose. This vainglorious whelp is evidently a total pillock.

Oh well, I'll learn you, you silly bugger.

I had to ask him again to put up the lyrics. Finally, he relented. I noticed he'd changed J. Stillings' (!) mastering settings though, leading to a crap, every-which-way-at-once full on drown-out that also hides my vocals magnificently. I suspect this man-ette is a cuck.

Maybe he can read the lyrics, and assimilate them, and realize that I am ripping the absolute piss out of the whole lot of them (whilst seriously trying to teach them not to be morons).

I notice it has not sold a single copy. Aha, vindication! Then again, none of these emptied twat-goblins ever purchases anything (despite all working in retail or bar-work), being self-professed socialists.

See an irony there at all, people? Like me to raid The Ivory Peg, and see how far I get?

Oh well, I'm sure he won't notice. He simultaneously spelled my name by email with a small 'b' and then went on to call me "dude". It's almost as bad as when I get official letters addressed to 'Mr. Powers'.

Haven't heard from him since. I told another one of these feckless wombles that I had an interest in MI7 and I think it scared him off. Oddly, I do have an interest in MI7. I'll leave that for another day.

Here's the song. I had the original somewhere or other (on a PC, I believe). I can't quite place where that's got to...

And here's the lyrics:

It’s a cold day in Hell and the hacked skin is screaming

Cut-price souls bleeding out

Selling their Meaning

Dead civilization

Beyond restoration

And a nice fresh demographic for each novel degradation

The cots are full of maggots in each nursery mind

No jobs for life yet you join the cattle grind

Skipping through fires of hate and desire

Throbbing zombie zygotes on the razor wire

Thin skins already cracking

Ligaments contracting

Writhing in this wound wake with both hands bound

Dionysian sybarites

Eyes wide shut in ritual spite

Cruising through a sine wave of freak show sound

Ugly-hued heads splice

Dead lips dirge lice

Masturbating mania across the wires

Blinkered perverts, paid drones

Puking up their sick bones

Superficial wishes light the funeral pyres

Blood sacrifice and infant rape

An Inquisition ink State

Liquid sex psychosis if you have the guile

Fashion conscious group thought

Virtue signaled souls bought

Feed those miles of maggots with each cold, controlled smile

I see rabid dogs and dust mites dripping universal slug slime

An acid rainbow in a sky that’s never had the time to shine

Crassly-wrought creeds serving dioxin needs

Half-baked quick-fix faith relations bleeding blunt force blasphemy

With muscles stitched to muzzles

Time to pack away this puzzle

There are crows on the horizon and that sky burns black

Corrupted cacogenics and a criminal aesthetic

Pay-per-view homicides

All media backed

Manufactured misandry

The feeble end of history

60 years of backwards ideology

Waves of assembly-line gun-crime

Feeding fear to brainwashed dregs

Rifle-toting right-wing death squads?!

Tell it to the limbless baby dripping down your leg

As the cellophane godless fuck the Lord of The Flies

Both looking backwards with the same ash in their eyes

And social sedation dulls this fear of waste creation

Whilst they aim us all at aimless annihilation

Still you bite the hand that feeds

Planting disillusioned seeds

A new generation of cultic dismay

Sucking off that flesh for your own feeble needs

Would you ever consider there’s another way?

Put your fingers to the ground

And feel the howl as worlds come down

Marketed amnesia

Makes it even easier

To enjoy a twilight lit by railguns, DEWs, drones, and mines

Turned on by this arms race

Tuned to charm and weak faith

You let the propagandists dictate your every line

Christ disfigured

They needed something bigger

Something they could trigger, with the time to kill

Broken borders

Victims only following orders

To drag us back with gratitude into their bloody swill

Left, and Right – and always wrong

A dialectic built on scorn

Left, and Right – and always wrong

A dialectic built on scorn

Left, and Right – and always wrong

A dialectic built on scorn

A dialectic built on scorn

A dead

A dead

A dead age is born

I don't really recommend the rest of the album, as its all shite to be honest. At least the mangled carcass of my own track is shovelled in there in good company.

Doubleplusshite, chaps. Try again.

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