Stone Guardian

by Dislich

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    Poster and lyrics sheet included.

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  • Stone Guardian CD (SOLD OUT!)
    Compact Disc (CD)

    Hand-screened compact disc emblazoned with the the Sigil of Dislich esoterically constructed to conjure the spirit of the 263rd emanation. A folded paper case bearing the image of the Stone Guardian protects the disc from baleful corruption. Limited run of 35.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Stone Guardian via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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  • St. Teresa T-shirt (SOLD OUT!)
    T-Shirt/Apparel

    Inspired by Lorenzo Bernini's baroque masterpiece, St. Teresa writhes in divine pleasure in an erotic rejection of the banal carnality of patriarchal modes of power. All shirts are grey with black printing and are available in small, medium, and large. Other sizing and coloring options accommodated upon request though additional charges may apply. Text reads:

    DISLICH

    IDAHO CUNT-PUNK DEMON BEAT SIGIL-GRIND 263

    Includes unlimited streaming of Stone Guardian via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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  • Dislich Back Patch (SOLD OUT!)

    Hand-screened on exciting rainbow fabric. Patch measures 9" x 13".

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about

Sigil Grind Demon Beat 263

credits

released 16 April 2013

Melissa Finley - Vocals
Solomon Reid - Guitar
Joseph Guerra - Guitar
Cru Manzer - Bass
Ryan Beitz - Drums

All songs written and recorded by Dislich at CTRL Force HQ:

1108 S Main St
Moscow, ID 83843
USA

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Track Name: God-Sized Hole in Hell
rats have been eating our insides
for so long! when they've sated
their hunger they whisper sweet
nothings in our ear their honeycoated
vocals are a poison in our
mind. i remember being held
in their sway.
a ghost of an angel or of a demon
or of a god haunts me in my sleep
a vestige of the wasted time in
my past. i hope there's a
god-sized hole in hell!
sweat runs down my spine
as we're writhing in excess
his holy hallucinations, taking
over me. I'll touch myself in his
name dust is gathering in heaven
and I imagine his lonely wrath.
There's a god-sized hole in hell.
the flies are gathering on his
flesh and all the rats have been
poisoned one by one with music
and drink.
waiting in the shadows, the devil
sings softly to himself, humming
a hopeful hymn. our descent will
be kept in the light
raise your hands to god.
Hosannah. burn his effigy on
high!
god-sized hole in hell!
Track Name: Withering Cunt
withering cunt, withering cunt,
withering cunt
kiss me with those wrinkled lips,
i can see you smile as you tell
me that i am wrong. please spit
in my face
i'm so turned on by your kind
hands. at my throat please guide
me in your righteous ways, throw
me a parade, write a song in my
name.
i am just a sack of eggs for your
guiding hand to twist. i am just
a feminist writhing in this
psychic bliss. i am just a piece
of shit waiting to be told, what,
to, do
i don't want to be feminine
i don't want to be saved
anti the Self. please fuck me
with your phallic cunt until
pleasure until pain.
i am your slave.
Track Name: Prisoners of Hope
the pyramid rose in the shadow of
the sun. stone height a sigil to
the stars and our ancestors.
reverent, excavation of blood
knowledge. the stars cast their
pale lights dancing. unnaturally.
our flying kin are oft here.
a cleansing ritual at the site of
the seventeen lost pyramids.
painting the sand with our
spilled blood and perfumed oils.
we wait in solemn loneliness for
the sign of your return creators
we are still prisoners of hope.
at the summit of this mountain.
my naked body pressed against the
pillar of their temple is chilled
by...
reverent thought of their future
presence. i'll burn a candle and
quietly scour ink. the scrying
glass glows cold and the sand
blows.
no mirage can fool our wicked
sight. here as we wait.
Track Name: Nausea Creeps
cold, sweat and the taste of bile
in my mouth. the page is blank
and no deed is done.
nausea creeps and its a sour
winter of words meant to stay.
how visceral is the taste of
blood. Is that profound enough to
be sung?
on my knees the shadows stretch
across the pitted surface of snow
naked but for this piss-stained
coat that I found on the road
a twilight blue falls as I'm
walking and walking counting
the lines on my hand both creased
crossed my palm and writ in ink
how can I write something worth
saying when ink that I use is
blood and piss and shit.
maybe I will swallow it instead!
there are no words
Track Name: Peasant
ox blood and grave mould. scent
of woman and the soil shoved
beneath her nails are a crescent
moon. i see her reflected in the
lake at twilight. only bread,
water, and hate keep me alive.
but for the ske-le-ton grin
of his yellowed teeth, i sin and
i sin. I'm just going to
keep breathing in.
our shadows dance in the
firelight. cast against the wall
in the pale twilight. sex and
pale skin. please let me in.
his fingers catch in my matted
wet hair. mud covers lust, covers
sight, rolling in fallow fields
we are caught between the
ruts. the leaves whispering of
our presence they are falling
apart. so am I.
cover my naked body in posies for
i'm un-clean. cleanse my naked
feet in ashes from sins the
dandelion's kiss on the blood
from my mouth stings so sweet,
clings so soft.
these harrowed hearts. these
fallow fields .these furrowed
brows. this hollow zeal.