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I think he's coming to life...
I think he's coming back to life.
Go tell his children and wife!

I think he's coming to life.
I think he's coming back to life.
I don't know how or why.
Go to his children and wife!

But at the rate of decay, what will they say?
I think he's still got the stench of death about him.
He's just been wasting away; something's stuck in his ribcage.
And I can still see the insects sliding beneath his skin.

Bones twist and snap from a long dirt-nap in a coffin encasement.
Sleeping compulsions have awakened.
Sometimes they do come back; fingernails caked in black.
I can't believe he climbed through the surface; the ground was frozen!

My heart don't beat, don't beat anymore.
Black blood distilled inside a corpse.
It has no reason to breathe.
It has no reason to bleed.

Imagine being his daughter when she's home alone, sitting there waiting for him by the phone.
He can't talk; all he does is moan.
So she gets nothing but a dial tone.

You can't hide from me.
You can't hide.


from What Great Fangs, released October 17, 2013



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What Great Fangs Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

5 filthy rock and roll party animals looking for a good time!

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