If you buy this title, IN CD FORMAT, directly from Cuneiform Records here, you will receive a special, bonus, custom printed flashlight keychain which is only available to folks who buy the release directly from us or from the band.
"TURN OUT THE LIGHTS, SWITCH ON THE UV LAMP, AND READ ALONG IN THE DARK. THE LYRICS ILLUMINATE THE WAY AS YOU ASCEND."
Includes unlimited streaming of Turf Ascension
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One overt idea opened the door: tap the energy in the sun. A galleria into a war, where we got to play spin-the-gun.
After some hurting, we were converting dynamite to Fahrenheit. Those flames that were fashioned fanned and impassioned tiny bits of atom-splits to rise; from one collision cut from a hole into all of our future skies. Every incision out of control. Now we’re nothing but suture ties.
Mining bitumen came from the human cranium. Uranium showed up on our dockets; loaded on rockets. See them cruise to light their fuse.
Unchecked, we self-select. Speed leads us to exceed. Gorging on the greed, we drown. Each enhancement pulls us down. Such advancement. So thin whenever we begin, it’s as if we’re in reverse. Each improvement makes things worse. Every movement crash lands and then expands.
Crash land and then expand. So thin whenever we begin, it’s as if we’re in reverse. Each enhancement makes things worse. Such advancement. Speed leads us to exceed. Gorging on the greed, we drown. Each improvement pulls us down. It’s our movement: unchecked, we self-select.
More. More and more. More and more. More and more. More and more. More and more.
Psycho-transporters, quantum bomb-blades, nanobot mortars, EMP grenades with a brain-trigger, plasma longbows. Power gets bigger, and the record shows every day the number grows.
We could try to take ’em all apart; shut it down. But even if we did, fear would win, and it would all restart. It’s a losing bid. For every single weapon we defang, the force of another hundred will increase. Everybody wants to build a bigger bang in the name of peace.
Particles pelting, morphing and melting solid ground; forever bound to runaway bruising, fused and refusing to conclude the day unglued.
Stone, as hard as ever; not quite as strong. Earth is all an erosion zone. Because we’ll never wait very long for another explosion.