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Made Of Teeth

by Witch of the Waste

supported by
ChaosLibra
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ChaosLibra Easily one of the best EPs this year. Frighteningly chaotic with complete disregard for your well being. WOTW are a raging beast that you want to just keep coming at you. Favorite track: She Burst Into Snakes.
Kronos
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Kronos 'Made of Teeth' pairs blackened hardcore reminiscent of Plebeian Grandstand with haunting riffing and disturbing stream-of-consciousness lyrics to great effect. Hopes are high for a full-length soon. Favorite track: It was Always 3:00am.
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    Made of Teeth on 7" blue vinyl

    Includes unlimited streaming of Made Of Teeth via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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1.
2.
You were so soft. You used to be as soft as us before the coma carved its portion and all shadows grew and crossed. Something crawled from the caldron and dismissed your distress. All ghosts cry out all at once. Despite all this matter and time, harbingers and reapers are foreshadowing deep breaths in the walls and cold fingers on your ankles. We turned all solicitors away, turned out a curse for each odd numbered day. Watched cracks in the plaster grow and bleed songs to the old gods. We laid down with our fears. We gave all our hope to the widow in the background of the vanity mirror. All ghosts cry out all at once. All mirrors broke all portraits fell. All moonlight shines eastern side. All petitioned Lord and cried “bring me back to a time, when moonlight lit dreams and everything was soft.” Our son’s invisible friend drew pictures of scarecrows with blacked out eyes. He knew names of former owners and the ways they died. “sleep my child remember those softer days. Remember when moonlight lit dreams. It now seeps between fingers of a crooked branch.”
3.
Time tells lies. “everything will be just fine”. The well ran dry and your love was found drowned in her summer dress. And you just stood there drawing revisions of a sketch artist rendition. They missed something in her eyes: an element of unsurprised. Suppression up risen delicate between her thighs. The coroner found evidence of rape and strange symbols scratched between her shoulder blades. She wore florescent glow gently, like a wedding gown, but cold. As the white tile floor mocks the turning of your heel: an echo of the voice that made you want to take her home. She still visits.... You’re not who you’ve said you are. There’s no tremors in your voice despite you’ve lived your life terrified in haerith. All this karma, all the spite and all those dreams you ate. One night shook awake, the doorway, see her figure block the light and you’re back in 2010 before the man in the black mask left her bloated by the river bed. You remember and she says.... The fingers break beneath the weight. The fingers fight you back. The cramp crawls up your wrist and bends your arm behind your back.
4.
I watched a son dismiss the silence of your restlessness. I felt your reach bereaved and laid by lines of sentiment. Are you enough to match the mass of all this upheaval? Are you enough to make a man more than a mandible? I have no more than no one. I have much less than restless. I’ve learned lessons to lessen the weight of what’s left by all those who left me. This prose reads like a suicide note. The bodies won’t float. The whole neighborhood will know the awful things you’ve done at your home alone neck deep in night and fucked up on fantasy.
5.
Time moves strangely here. The rapist’s grin. The widows fiend and subvert a billowing concourse. A ratchet a spade, a rag and a chain. It drew blood and made a map. A crotch convulse. The screaming teeth. The subtext reads awkwardly. A shovel a cane, a bear trap, a snake. All above understand. The whistle blower. The repo man. A business of flies. I found a space in time for you. Between the 13th day and now. Turned out the toad skin curse. Do you remember that day? Do you remember?
6.
When you reach the peak reach for me. Pull me past the pain of prose and certainty. I’ve seen shadows move. I’ve seen things growing teeth and leaving pigeon wings and feet. We’re all withered, disfigured detached and derange. We’re all withered, disfigured, unhinged and unchanged and unaware that the formula that determines our karma looks a lot like probability. I made my peace with god. He doesn’t speak to me. The one who does speaks through eighteen rows of teeth. I made my peace on earth as wide as I can stand. You’re willing, take my hand. Drag you to the holy land. I made my peace with god. When will he make peace with me? There’s corpses in the driveway all aligned to their size. There’s ghosts on the sidewalk selling snake oil to the flies. I made my peace on earth as wide as I can stand. You’re willing take my hand. Drag you to the holy land. I made my peace with god. When will he make peace with me?

credits

released March 24, 2015

Mark Mckitrick: recording engineer at Mark at Rain City Recorders
Curtis Buckoll: mixing the album Rain City Recorders
Stu Mckillop for mastering at Rain city
Ricky Castanedo: album cover and center label artwork
Jesse Cramer: vinyl insert artwork
Chris Lennox-Aasen: video
Bobby Lisle: Web design/ artwork
Chris Dyck: for dealing with our bullshit

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Witch of the Waste Vancouver, British Columbia

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