Flesh and Filter

Hey, ya thought we were done?…nah…GrizzlyJones is back in the static…Say da name…Flesh and Filter [Intro]

(Slow, dragging 85BPM pace. The air feels heavy, dark, and suffocating.)

(Deep, slow, and heavily drawn-out delivery. A smoky, raspy voice lingering on every word.)

The velvet tore away to show the wire,

We traded out the blood for liquid fire.

The lung is heavy with a darker paste,

A world of concrete that we cannot waste.

We watch the frost begin to choke the screen,

The final border of a dying scene.

You cannot scrub the carbon from the skin,

It anchors down the weight we carry in.

A golden locket buried in the grime,

The last survivor of a sweeter time.

(Tempo rise. Pacing steadily accelerates from 85BPM up to a fast, frantic speed. Tension builds.)

Tighten the clamp... and feed the line,

A lonely ghost... running out of time.

We breathe the smoke... inside the deep,

And pray the circuit... stays asleep...

(Fast build-up) *Break the lock! Let it go!*

(Fast tempo explosion. High intensity. Vocals switch to a loud, aggressive, raspy yell.)

THE FLESH IS FADING FROM THE BONE!

WE BUILT A PRISON AND CALLED IT HOME!

THE FILTER TRAPS THE REMAINING BREATH!

WE TRADE OUR SHADOWS AWAY TO DEATH!

YEAH, WE WATCH IT FADE SLOW!

THE FINAL KINGDOM DOWN BELOW!

(Tempo suddenly drops back down to a sluggish, heavy crawl. The smoky voice returns to a quiet, intense murmur.)

The furnace hungers for another name,

A hundred faces looking just the same.

We patch the leaking valves with heavy thread,

And rewrite all the words the elders said.

The glass is cracked across the viewing tower,

We count the seconds of the final hour.

A single footprint in a pool of grease,

The only signature of our release.

(Tempo rise. Pacing accelerates sharply once again. The voice transitions from a breathless whisper into an intense, rising shout.)

Iron and marrow are locking together,

We traded the sky for this frozen weather.

An endless static in a mind of steel,

We can't remember how we used to feel.

The system bleeds and the master decays,

We buried the sun of the happier days.

(Fast build-up) *Tear it down! Break the frame!*

(Fast tempo explosion. High intensity. Vocals are yelled with maximum gravelly aggression.)

THE FLESH IS FADING FROM THE BONE!

WE BUILT A PRISON AND CALLED IT HOME!

THE FILTER TRAPS THE REMAINING BREATH!

WE TRADE OUR SHADOWS AWAY TO DEATH!

YEAH, WE WATCH IT FADE SLOW!

THE FINAL KINGDOM DOWN BELOW!

(The fast beat crashes out. Pacing returns to a dead, slow crawl. The performance fades to a quiet, gritty finish. One final, low exhale.)