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lyrics

Space between wasted days.
Goldfish bowls throwing stones.

Write me babe, i can wait.
Wrinkled globes weaken odes.

Carnal wisdom I loathe to load
into narrowing boats of foam
along with ripped and soiled robes,
honest air and coiled ropes.

House of spice and wind.

Quarantine of my naked shame,
warring sounds of my failed escape,
shared secrets and dangerous games,
teal gowns of veiled dames.

Maiden glitters like broken poems,
kisses squarely my choking throat.
Swishes down and points to home,
piles of brownish human bones.

Her window opened love. Her tasteless pie was done.
I reached from my salon, my probing hand was gone.
I tried again, again, left right and everything.
A vile wind seized my arms. Her walls are closing jaws,
so close I hope to pause. Though roaches hesitate,
throw punches in the fate, shy grace shall lose herself.
Save face and choose your hell.

credits

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

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about

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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