Two years ago I met with Mazey.
She brought her stuff and showed me ways to
accurately gauge the strange of electric slurry
left in the aether.
The Projector Mime is the device she left me,
with a little practise I get reception.
I'm getting signals, they're coded questions
about location and directions.
Can you tell me where we meet at night?
Down the hill by the traffic light?
Do you know where we meet tonight?
Is it down the hill by the traffic light?
No.
Now it's five years on and total infiltration
of all the airwaves; long, short and space band.
Exploiting pockets of wasted Strange
and mining guts of drifting dreams
For access to the funny signal
I need the data to patch the limn of
the projected scrim of legerdemain.
Fuck off Tesla, Edison the same.
Creating a dark, heavy, and yet tranquil atmosphere, Bell Witch are quintessential Funeral Doom, and that without guitars. All their albums are, while slightly varying in tone and atmosphere, masterpieces of the sub-genre. Dragonsmoke
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