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A2 Night​-​Gaunts

from Drifting Towards the End by K. Fenrir

/

lyrics

Out of what crypt they crawl, I cannot tell,

But every night I see the rubbery things,

Black, horned, and slender, with membranous wings,

They come in legions on the north wind's swell

With obscene clutch that titillates and stings,

Snatching me off on monstrous voyagings

To grey worlds hidden deep in nightmare's well.

Over the jagged peaks of Thok they sweep,

Heedless of all the cries I try to make,

And down the nether pits to that foul lake

Where the puffed shoggoths splash in doubtful sleep.

But ho! If only they would make some sound,

Or wear a face where faces should be found!

credits

from Drifting Towards the End, released February 22, 2016
Lyrics by Howard Phillips Lovecraft

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FALK Reykjavik, Iceland

FALK - Fuck Art Let's Kill is the name of our combined interest in what we think is important in some vague way. We make something and release it to fend for it self. To kill or be killed. Such is the way of the FALK.

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