A Killing Field

by Haunt

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1.
2.
03:24
3.
03:10

about

On this record -

Kish Kothe – Vocals
Brandon Nathaniel – Vocals
Jerrit DeCoursey – Guitar
Kelly Cook – Guitar / Programming
Zach Trees – Bass / Keys / Programming
Ian Bell – Drums

Lyrics for “Scab” written by Kish
Lyrics for “Cloven Hooves” & “Pine Box” written by Brandon
All music written and performed by Haunt

Engineered/Mixed/Mastered by: Will Beasley
Artwork by: Jason Brown

credits

released March 28, 2015

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Haunt Baltimore, Maryland

melancholy cult

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Track Name: Cloven Hooves
What good is the toil? I am damaged. I am the drudge. I am the holy war. I am the mud. Throwing roses. Dragging rope. Hail to the “great intellectual”. I am the traitor in your midst.

This is what god is - write it down.

Disconnect. Widow relic. Cavalcade. Languish. The devil door unlocked. Body in a bag. Body in a box.

It remains obsolete. Standing at the center of a circle that I’ve dug in the dirt. Yeah, you’re killing me. I’m so tired of this back and forth.
Track Name: Scab
Swore I heard my name down the hall. It was the reapers voice. A curtain call. Palpitations. I’m paranoid. Visceral urge for war. In the allotted time you’ve allowed for me, all I’ve seen are villains, thieves and fiends. If I could speak my mind, it would shatter teeth.

Fermented rage in my mind. Bottled up. Pressurized. Carbon copies and hand me down philosophies. Cellophane dreams were only temporary.

Bare the weight of my mind. Crushed spine. Health declined. Feel the wrath of my pain. Never leave that room again. Parasite (eating away). I was the host of the party. Always on the move, black clouds in the rearview.

Longing for affection. Sweet new perspective. One too many notches on the bedpost. I’m still waiting for your words to alter the chemicals of the universe.

We’re all a dice roll away. It’s the throne or it’s the grave. Kneel to me your everything, or feed the vermin with your decay. Your words taste like death. Vultures circle the stench.

A scatterbrained manuscript. It spews from my fingertips. Chaotic psyche, she relates to me.

(White flag) this systems built to defeat me.
(White flag) to the pheromones you’re releasing.
Track Name: Pine Box
Stoic am I. Perilous. Marching death. The muse, I’ve lost it. Push sedatives. Moving room to room. A tender trick. My coat of arms. Broken king. Beheaded.

“Dramatis personae”. Vermin, sympathetic. Entangled in the coma. Created esoteric. Love extinguished. With wood. With water. You leave the light. Every word chosen so chewed up and spit out that I can barely speak.

I drove south in the summer out of ceremony to form failing tribes and blame matrimony. The flora and fauna guilty of blood pacts. From birth to the corner. A coven. A loss tax.

Sage of the ribcage - the year is 1991, bury him.