Every four years the two-headed monster rises from its pit, and we have a choice between this head or that. Their party line separation is a phantasm haunting reason. It's a choice between this diseased hand or that diseased hand. We are criminals who defy law. They are criminals who defy freedom. Endless heads of a bureaucratic hydra, and so the smiling wounds we draw across each neck. While they lounge in the decadence of their capitols and dream up new rules of social conduct, we shall sink a knife in every Caesar, we shall aim our rifles and fire at every president, every senator, every statesman. Wake up. There won't be any change. In the sewer of capitalism, only the scum will rise.
This is a difficult album to even begin to write about. I wouldn’t say there are many albums I enjoy more than tyrant, regardless of genre. Every song on here is so massive and so crushing and yet so serene and beautiful too. Fucking chained to the bottom of the ocean feels like it’ll turn my brain into a formless goo that will then leak out of my nose. adammcjohnson