Perdition grows from within
A feeling that bubbles up under the skin
A blister
A cancer called the state
Black rags, a funeral garb
The kids are marching, a call to arms
Circle every A
Circle every A
I’ll pray for your machines
Guided by fear which threatens their dreams
Keep them well fed, make sure nothing's learned
We see by the light of the bridges we burn
Black rags, a funeral garb
The kids are marching, a call to arms
Circle every A
Circle every A
Cut out the cancer, dead romans everywhere
They feed the soil
Cut out the cancer, dead romans everywhere
They feed the soil, dead romans
They’ve been dead for sometime and now their flesh will follow
From riffs and production to hooks and breakdowns, the Canadian metalcore veterans' seventh album ups the ante in every way. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 5, 2022