PERSONAL PAVOR NOCTURNUS
I woke up screaming again
Choking on my fog of sweat and fear
Wandering through your house
Lost in my thoughts
Fingers glide over satin plaster
Splintered frame points out my targets
Domino run of choices
Open the door - Blades and blood.
Open the door - Tie the noose and drop.
Open the door - Chainsaw.
Open the door - Torn limb from limb.
Run away; Paralyzed.
Try to scream; Have no voice.
Futile me; Drown in quicksand.
Impotent; Lack of action.
If you won’t choose
Your choice is made
The center door
Became my main stage
Climb the stairs
Sink into the fibers…
supported by 7 fans who also own “Personal Pavor Nocturnus”
Just picturing the basement dwelling losers standing around in a shitty club with like 12 people pretending that they are artistic geniuses because they make tapes. Basically the worst tendencies in modern noise all compounded into one sound. Then again; most noise is terrible. I mean how much of it do we really need? Damn sorry for being such a bummer. Adam Lehrer/Safety Propganda