In Front Of The Gate
K.I.F.O.T.H.
Spectaclebreakers (1999)

The chain of sound threads loose self. Warmth leaves poison constituting any illusions. Nude man in despondent trauma embrace. Inflammable substance searches for in discouraged Natalie’s bowels in the abandoned depths. A flag on the pylon and victim. Her spontaneously singing of austere entreaties. Pure devotion one line ass’ with eyes covered by ears brake their necks and again the last ship is loosing to a blind hope. Just the master keeps one way. The fractured forefinger. Nataly’s bilious juice does boil on that civilisation toting crests proudly. Somewhere in gloomy corner there’s conscripted opposition and all cosmic potency to get look to self countenance. Definitive denial. Warmth the cause of respiring the world lived off its lifetime and Natalie burns her red curls.