Rust and Velvet

Hey, do ya hear dat?…listen…it’s GrizzlyJones

Say da name…Rust and Velvet

(Slow, dragging 85BPM pace. Industrial bass drone. Low, weeping jazz saxophone plays over heavy vinyl static.)

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

The marrow hardens into colder stone,

An ancient breath inside a hollow throne.

The oil bleeds through the fractured seam,

We swallow down the ash of a broken dream.

A bitter winter coats the midnight floor,

We lock the locks and watch the open door.

The daylight faded forty years ago,

We watch the shadows stretch and start to grow.

A silver thread upon a velvet sleeve,

There is no magic left to make-believe.

(Tension grows heavier. Slow jazz brush drums and eerie, low-pitched brass sirens swell.)

Pull the lever... slow the drive,

A rusted gear... that thinks it is alive.

We wait beneath... the heavy dark,

To feed the ghost... a dying spark...

(Maximum weight. Thunderous slow kick and crushing low synths. Vocals are thick, gravelly, and dragged out.)

We carry rust... down in the core,

We do not walk... the surface anymore.

The heavy carbon... chokes the chest,

Lay the old world... down to rest.

Yeah... we watch it burn... slow.

The final embers... in the snow.

(Pacing remains sluggish and oppressive. The raspy vocals drop into a quiet, intense murmur.)

The clockwork counts the minutes we forgot,

Where silk and iron slowly turn to rot.

We trade our memories for a drop of grease,

And beg the cold machine to bring us peace.

A forgotten portrait in a cracked glass frame,

Nobody living can pronounce the name.

We are the dust that settled on the floor,

The final footprints by the cellar door.

(Beat cuts to minimal industrial thuds. The smoky voice becomes breathless and deeply gravelly.)

Time is a wheel that is locked in the rust,

Everything built will return to the dust.

A quiet eclipse in a sky made of lead,

We follow the paths where the ancestors bled.

The circuitry bleeds and the copper decays,

We are the ghosts of the happier days.

(Full heavy energy returns. Crushing industrial bass and slow, crashing drums.)

We carry rust... down in the core,

We do not walk... the surface anymore.

The heavy carbon... chokes the chest,

Lay the old world... down to rest.

Yeah... we watch it burn... slow.

The final embers... in the snow.

(Drums stop. Gritty saxophone note fades out into a deep bass rumble. One final, low exhale.)