lc68 - loss of a crutch - cracking + plus songs of lo-fi encrusted with surface trawl on reverse granular processes dune in front of you
lc69 - dead, all - kill rock kill rockstars kill rockfans kill
lc70 - sharon/sara - shriek of whore vile coupled with radiance absence contemplation
lc71 - i've lost - a ghosted song and electro skree-ish and myriad elements of stereo led sound tinker/thrust
lc72 - ...confirms abstention from... - one sad farewell, to the tune of mixed-bag low fidelity theatrics
lc73 - screen portal hell - knifefight flicker thru and continual switch thereof follow the eyes
lc74 - bleeding knuckles - take tape and punch until weak shell reds. some build-up may now be cleared.
lc75 - bruised wrists - tape plus floor jolts the joint and leaves boy wrist fucked. also.
lc76 - so tired - the last trick you want played on you. eyelids falter into semi-murk
lc77 - two men kicking a child to death - sometimes, you just let go
lc78 - and then it turns to shit - oh, the realisation can hurt/blind
lc79 - railways of the istrian penninsula - poetical garb envelopes twisted strands of sonic avenues something something
lc80 - don't you fucking get it? - well, don't you?
lc81 - go back to sleep - "why did you bother waking?" echoes thru murk
lc82 - retreats & reforms - and that was that. an end fitting. thats showbusiness for you.
