1. |
Counter Errorism
04:07
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Though tides are rising
Thoughts bide while sirens sing
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2. |
Kings of the Mud
03:17
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We are the kings in cold metal rings
Surrounded and hounded and tattered and frayed
With bows on our strings, we race to the brink
And breathe in the dust of the bloody below
We are the kings
Of mud and of string
We are the kings
That no-one can own
We are the kings of mud and of string
And all of the things that no-one can own
To the ends of the earth, we battle and burn
We rage through the dust, the dust and the snow
Where we go (where we go)
Nobody knows (nobody knows)
Dust and dirt cloak our retreat
Where we go (where we go)
Nobody knows (nobody knows)
Swallowed by night-blackened earth
We are the kings in cold metal rings
Surrounded and hounded and tattered and frayed
With bows on our strings, we race to the brink
And breathe in the dust of the bloody below
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3. |
Song of the Sandgrinder
06:07
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4. |
Undeadutante's Ball
07:18
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5. |
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6. |
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7. |
Twilight to Darkness
18:36
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How many times have I heard all the lies
Cut right through air-armoured truth?
Another day done
and sceptics have won with lies
Ignoring science
You can't breathe this apathy when you're gone
Dead dusk on the setting sun
A siren's song, sung
All the kings will go back to the mud
Another subtle atom bomb.
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The Crooked Fiddle Band Sydney, Australia
The sound we love is dark and often driving, but also writhing and ecstatic.
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