Dusty Winged Little Hoard

[Verse 1]
Found my jacket on the floor
Tiny scars in the fabric
Every thread
Every torn little door
Teeth marks from the frantic
Closet smells like old rain
Dead air
Stale in the corners
Tiny kings on the wool and the grain
Silent
Patient devourers
[Chorus]
The moths leaving holes in my clothes
Like nobody knows
Like nobody knows
Like a smorgasbord for the dusty winged little hoard
Eat me slow
The moths leaving holes in my clothes
Like nobody knows
Like nobody knows
Like a smorgasbord for the dusty winged little hoard
Till I’m nothing but a ghost in these folds
[Verse 2]
Every bite is a year
Vanishing under my fingers
I put it on
It just falls
Disappears
All that weight never lingers
You can’t see what they take
But I feel every fiber
Pulling loose like I’m starting to fray
From the collar to the inner liner
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
[low vocal register] Pick me clean
Thread by thread
Little mouths
In my head
[full scream] Let ’em feast
On what I wore
’Cause under this skin
I’m already torn
[Chorus]

metal, Early-2000s metalcore grit with dropped-tuned guitars, dissonant chords, and halftime breakdowns. Verses are tight and rhythmic around palm-muted riffs; chorus opens up with wide, screamed-gang vocals doubling a melodic lead. Dry, punchy drums with aggressive snare, bass locked in on chugs, brief dissonant lead guitar textures in the bridge. Male vocals that flip between harsh screams and strained melodic hooks.