Old Blood - Old Blood

Old Blood - Old Blood

The thing about acid, even - one presumes- acid doom, is the random connections, far flung synapses that fire off together and woooooof - through spooky action at a distance, you conjure a narrative out of nothing.

Old Blood. The signifiers are all there - blues fuzz, heaviness.  It goes down smooth and soporific.  

There is a girl.  She tells you she drinks. She doesn’t, because her parents tell her not to, but she tells you she does. We all know.

The stars circle in their ten billionth perfect euclidean circle.  All we will ever be is here in this world.  Boredom.  Suffocating in suburbia.

"And if I say to you tomorrow…?" Hey, Ho, here we go.

She sings about coming to terms with her own power.  Art is a mirror held up to life.  Is she a mirror, a created thing, or a creator, a vessel for transgression? 

What should never be? What is down that rabbit hole? Endless cycles?

She has no answers. Power is not responsibility. You may lose yourself in there.  Melody dissolves away in liquid sheets of acid.  Everyone has a world in their head.  Together we may become a universe. But the stars circle.  The urge to transcend becomes the urge to escape. Kali becomes a commodity.

No-one cares about the motion of the stars. No-one stops to count as they circuit the night sky.

I used to be beautiful…

There are no laws binding us.

“When first I came to town, they called me the roving jewel”

No-one cares about the motion of the stars. No-one stops to count as they circuit the night sky.

Beautiful…

We are held in their thrall, every revolution another line etched.

“Now they’ve changed their tune, they call me Katie Cruel”

Beautiful.

It ends in suffocation and madness.

The Negalith listens, but says nothing.

 

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