1. |
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The first time I died, a cold and distant night
So far I can’t remember.
The proceeding days would never look the same
In the dawn of November.
Existence is pain, I don’t care what they say.
I can’t fight anymore. I’ve lain awake too long to carry on.
Please let me go.
The following death, I thought I caught my breath,
Standing tall, just like a stone.
I died once again, a death without an end,
Melted away into the snow. Oh!
Existence is pain enough to drive you insane.
I can’t fight anymore. I’ve lain awake too long to carry on.
The next time I die, I’ll face the other side.
I pray for the void of forever.
The proceeding days will never be the same
In the dawn of November.
Existence is pain. Everyone is insane.
I can’t fight anymore. I’ve lain awake too long to carry on.
Please let me go.
Please let me go.
Please let me sleep.
Please let me go.
Please let me go.
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2. |
Cemetery Blues
07:31
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She wants me, and I want her, too,
But she’s dead. Her body’s cold and blue.
I hear her calling from the graveyard.
She haunts me.
I got the cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
I got the cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
Got a run o’ bad luck, picked up a no-leaf clover.
My baby’s dead, but the pain ain’t over.
Her spirit, wailing and alone. I know just what to do.
I’ve gotta shuffle off this mortal coil
And get the cemetery blues.
Now I got nothin’ left to lose.
I got the cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
Come on and shred for the dead!
She haunts me. Now I haunt her, too.
You’ll never see me again
‘Cause I got the cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
I got the cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
I got the cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
The cemetery blues.
I got the cemetery blues.
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3. |
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Depressive episode 44 years long,
So what’s another day?
So far gone I don’t wanna write this song.
We worship dollar bills while the glaciers melt away.
Nothing’s gonna be okay.
Depressive episode.
Every one of us, dying soon, I wish we would.
How much more shit can we sustain?
Suicide is looking mighty fucking good.
The concrete looms. Every animal in pain.
Wash it all away.
Ooh!
Depressive episode 44 years long,
So what’s another year?
Everything is going, going, going, going, gone.
What your children die, cowering in fear.
Depressive episode.
Depressive episode.
Ah!
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4. |
Sick of Your Shit
04:57
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Ya got a phony fuckin’ smile, sayin’ everything’s fine. You fuckin’ lie.
Act like a friend, then stab me in the back. I hope you die.
Your condescending glare makes me wanna gouge out your fuckin’ eyes.
You think you’re fuckin’ cool? You’re just another piece of shit I despise.
Yeah!
Sick of your shit. Yeah!
Sick of your shit. Fuckin’ sick of you.
Under your mask lies an insecure, scared little worm.
Can’t wriggle your way out of every grave, you will learn.
In the end, to the earth, we all return.
All your shit talking’ threats? Ha! It’s no concern.
No!
Sick of your shit. Yeah!
Sick of your shit.
Worthless. Pathetic. Endless betrayal.
We’re sick of your shit.
Sick of your shit.
Sick of your shit.
Sick of your shit.
You act like a friend, then stab me in the back. I hope you die.
Ya got a phony fuckin’ smile, sayin’ everything’s fine. You fuckin’ lie.
Your condescending glare makes me wanna tear out my eyes.
When there’s nowhere left to turn, I’ll laugh. Ha! It’s no surprise.
No!
Sick of your shit. Yeah!
Sick of your shit. Fuckin’ sick of you.
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5. |
I Wanna Be Dead
12:22
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I want the earth to rot away my skin,
Weighing on my bones until my skull is caving in.
Grave worms consume my putrid, stinking flesh,
Devour every morsel when I’m devoid of breath.
There’s nothing after this, but to be a corpse.
But, of course, it’s just my fantasy, the world within my head.
I’m hoping, I’m praying, I’m waiting, I wanna be
Dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
Dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
An empty vessel, I would like to become,
Rising from the dirt after the setting of the sun.
Now, I consume your perfect naked flesh,
Piercing you with my gaze as we join in death.
I wanna be your sustenance. Drink from my veins to take away the pain.
The time approaches, let’s turn the dial ahead.
Tolls, twelve, of the bell, and now we’re
Dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
Dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
Lay down next to me in our coffin lined with satin sheets.
Lay down forever with me as I breathe my last breath.
I never asked to be born. I never wanted to be alive.
D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D.
Dead.
Abomination! I know, now, what I am:
Pariah, a monster, my soul, obsidian,
So let my essence shroud the world in dread.
A pox upon this human race! I wanna be
Dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
Dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
(I wanna be) dead.
D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D.
D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D. D-E-A-D.
Dead.
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6. |
Comes with the Fall
03:22
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Goya Phoenix, Arizona
Jeffrey Owens
Marcus Bryant
Cj Sholtis
Sounds like 400 watts of tubes coming out of 16 speakers running over your head.
Goya recommends:
Satan Worshipping Doom
by Bongripper
Fuzzed-out, stoned-out, zoned out Satanic Doom. Not to be missed!
go to albumKiller riffs, killer recording, killer dudes.
go to albumIf you like Goya, you may also like:
supported by 158 fans who also own “In the Dawn of November”
This is fucking killer. It's the perfect blend between trad-riffs and contemporary tones and sometimes growl vocals. They're even better live too.
go to albumsupported by 139 fans who also own “In the Dawn of November”
Rare qu'un groupe de vétérans aussi anciens qu'Acid King, et qui a largué quelques bombes sur la scène Stoner Doom dès ses débuts, reste aussi convaincant dès années plus tard. Les cheveux gris, les bourrelets adipeux, les articulations arthritiques n'y ont rien fait: cet album est simplement énorme et leur meilleur - conviction de fan de la première heure!
go to albumThe New Mexico outfit back-load their desert rock grooves with blissful psychedelic melodies and drones aplenty.
go to albumTennessee stoner-doom quartet tap into their Appalachian roots across seven razor-sharp, southern-rock-inflected rippers.
go to album