Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Hashtags

from by Black Bolt

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lyrics

It's a psychic web they're spinning
The creature's veins are glowing green
Clawing roads to mexico
Harvesting technology

Drones for the drone god
Bombs for the bomb god
Brittle bones snap and decompose in the aftershock
No one misses what no one knows is lost

Entitled to a ribcage prison
Brains are smothered by debris
The beast spreads spores and then it goes
To plant its eyes as vulgar seeds

Sanitizing land across the sea
Whittle down the earth until it's flat
Mutating some perverse immunity
Whitewash everything until it's black

credits

from Comfort of the Grave, released February 11, 2016

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Black Bolt Boise, Idaho

A loose congolmeration of nerds and jerks playing three to five chords, sometimes successfully.

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