A corpse a product to be sold
As sustenance for young and old
Any flesh by any name
Murder is murder it's all the same
Sneer at the face upon your plate
Swallow your conscience stuff your face
You choose convenience you choose taste
Death turned to fucking waste
Who’s voice- is voiceless?
Another mother’s milk and period
Any other name is still fucking blood
And a corpse of course was made for death
for a life once lived lives on your breath
A social habit forced on you?
It's your fucking right to choose!
Fried and baked and stewed and skewed
Death’s delicious? How ‘bout you
Powerful in every way, this DC hardcore group's first full-length is the siren song to having no home as a person of color—in punk, in society, in America. It could not have arrived at a more appropriate time. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jul 15, 2016