I think we’re losing him, you know
His breath seems shallower
Brain activity
Is descending sharply
I can’t quite make out
what he’s trying to say
Some fumbled mumbled half sense
“Wanted?” “Scrolls?” “Afloat?” “Hope?”
I think we’re losing him, you know
His breath seems shallower
His body is rejecting
The Remprog overlay
In the rain there are air-drops
In the sky there are grass stains
Underfoot the sun’s burning
on high rivers and lakes loom
Lasers whistle from eye-lids
Lungstuff issues from mag-boots
All around there is dancing
Fighting, grasping, 5 to 5 to 5
He’s convulsing
His heartbeat’s arrhythmic
Ready the paddles
Prep the inhibitors
Now stand clear
And administer
He’s flatlining
Ready the charges again
Blastbeard’s at the helm
Are you listening?
The course is set,
The plan’s in motion now
So fire up all the engines
And let’s take them down
This booty is all ours
We shall not restrain our hands
A ferocious display of blackened stoner-doom from Moscow's Moanhand, who offsets moments of bleak ugliness with clean, haunting melody. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 23, 2021