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lyrics

I speak my piece, wreathed with grief
while voracious thieves eat our feast.
Our lithium joy is wise to shame.
O sentient void, own your stains

Try to talk to lightning,
fight to blot polite green,
nightly loss of quiet dreams:
junkyard fire.

Our wasted rage knows no glee.
It makes a face loathingly.
It frowns with spite, hooked on dreams,
grounded like tumbleweeds.

China town in stalemate like a sleuth
lays us down with railway hijack crews.
The odor from a restless birth suits my game.
Mother said to spend her purse, use her name.

Easy crown, safety queen;
I see her crouch awaiting sleep.

credits

from Tale of the Lovelorn Outlaw, released March 16, 2019

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Joey Molinaro Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Acoustic experimental black metal/ solo grind violinist Joey Molinaro’s “stomping and ferocious playing is inescapable,” (Foxy Digitalis).
Molinaro “executes the spirit and function of hardcore punk and Appalachian folk” (Foxy Digitalis) with “vocals [that] haunt, like a preternatural voice from beyond the pale” (Razorcake) and torrential boot-stomping.
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