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We Reap Our Crops​.​.​.​.

from Slutet (Compilation, 2015) by Slutet

/

lyrics

WE THROW ROSES AND SMALL BIRDS INTO THE GAPING ABYSS AS A GESTURE OF SOLEMN GRATITUDE, LIKE PRIMITIVE MEN PAYING REVERED TRIBUTE TO THE SPIRIT OF A GREAT, GREAT ENEMY; WE OFFER OUR BODIES TO THAT GREAT, MONSTROUS DEPTH, PROCLAIMING IN A MANTRIC THROBBING OF THE VOCAL CHORDS A MOST SINCERE RESPECT TO THE MAGN-IFICENT DEVIL THAT ALMOST SWALLOWED US WHOLE.

THE LINE BETWEEN WEAKNESS AND STRENGTH CUTS OUR BATTERED HEARTS IN TWO; CAN WE, THEN, ENDURE THE YOKE WE HAVE HUNG OVER OUR SWEAT-STAINED, BRUISING SHOULDERS? WE RETREAT DAY BY DAY TO AN OVERPOWERING ENEMY, BUT THE SPOILS ARE GREAT RICHES WE CAN NOT IMAGINE FOR OURSELVES A LIFE WITHOUT.

IGNOMINY MATES WITH TRIUMPH AND THUS LIFE IS BEGOTTEN; WHEN DARKNESS REARS ITS UGLY FACE TOWARDS MINE, I FEEL!
I CARVE MY INSIGNIA INTO MY OWN WHITE FLESH; MY GENITALS EVOKE A PROFOUND REPULSION; I DISTURB THIS UNENVIABLE SHROUD OF FLESH - THIS SWOLLEN MASS, THIS PINK SKIN, THESE OVARIES, THIS CERVIX, UTERUS AND CLITORIS...THESE FRAIL STRAWS OF BLONDE HAIR PROTRUDING FROM MY ITCHING SCALP... THIS REFLECTION SEEMS TO DISDAIN BOTH ME AND YOU ALL.

NOW; LET THE WARTHOGS OF HUMANITY BROWSE THROUGH THE SHIT OF OUR STINKING LATRINES; LET THE SWINE DRINK FROM THE RIVERS OF THEIR OWN ACIDIC VOMIT ALONG WHOSE BANKS WE WALK. YOUR MOTHER CRY TEARS ON YOUR STINKING CADAVER, LIKE A PAID WHORE. YOU DO NOT EVOKE A PROFOUND SENSE OF SELF-RESPECT… YOU FEEL SHALLOW. WE REAP OUR CROPS IN YOUR CULTURE'S WINDTHROWS.

credits

from Slutet (Compilation, 2015), released April 1, 2015

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The End Commune Uppsala, Sweden

THE END COMMUNE.

FOUNDED 2012
COLLAPSED 2022

ALL 2023 RELEASES ARE EITHER POSTHUMOUS OR COMPILATIONS

* * * * *

WORD & MUSIC PLATFORM.

TOTAL AMATEUR PASSION.

AUTHENTIC WORDS & SOUNDS FROM UPPSALAS UNDERGROUND.

NO COMPROMISE. NO POLITICS. NO COLOURS. NO AFFILIATION. TOTAL INDEPENDENCE.

WITH GOD AND VICTORIOUS WEAPONS.

SEE BLOGSPOT LINK FOR THE END COMMUNE WORDS.

REST IN PEACE. ... more

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