It's Better This Way

by Remote Viewing

supported by
warren barton
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warren barton I've never danced and headbanged like a lunatic so much, listen to it makes me feel that way. I had to buy it! It's Better This Way is such a remarkable work of art, so heavy, so sludgy and just so unpredictable, it doesn't let go. Unbelievable album, unbelievable band! Favorite track: They Never Made It Home.
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credits

released November 29, 2019

John Atkins - bass
James Bryant - guitar
Tom Fowler - guitar
Dimitris Fotis Sakellariou - drums
Nikolai von Stieglitz - vocals

Recorded, mixed and mastered
by Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse
London, March 2019

Additional vocals: Ed (‘They Never Made It Home’), Pede (‘A Dog in the Oven’),
Seedi (‘High Level Gutter Clearance’)

Photography by Remote Viewing
Artwork & Design by Ultragrim
(Ultragrim - ultragrim.tumblr.com)

Contact: remoteviewingband@gmail.com

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all rights reserved

tags

about

Remote Viewing London, UK

SONGS IN THE KEY OF SHIT#

Ex-members of Palehorse, Million Dead and I Want You Dead.

contact / help

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Track Name: They Never Made It Home
They never made it home

Sister and brother
He’s simply simpler than others

As far as the story goes
They never made it home

Dragging through the cornfields
Clasping wet hands

In a stretch at the crossroads
They never made it home

Bright flashes
Happy birthday
Seeping gashes
Ripped in the cornfield

Grandpa made sandwiches
Grandma made pie
Uncle was absent
Most of the night

Dust, bleach, ephemera
They walked for hours
Clasped hand in hand
Gurgling their tears

Tangled laces
They found his severed feet
Of all the places
By her baby blue shoes
Track Name: The Tissue Issue
Sliding your fingers in, to the lips of a well-worn grin
Young girls buying drugs from the midwife
Kids feasting on snakes after midnight

Sliding your fingers in
Between the noose and the chin
Sliding your fingers in
In the interest of science

No means to clean up the fluid
Chewy teeth on the gristle and suet

Groping nails on the frame of the door
Preacher’s daughter makes a hell of a whore
Everything silent, nothing important
Everything silent, nothing important
Groping nails on the frame of the door
Preacher’s daughter makes a hell of a whore

Sliding your fingers in
Between the noose and the chin
Sliding your fingers in
Until they’re blue like you wanted
Track Name: Suspicious Embraces at The Museum of Dental Malpractice
You’re not as dead
As you’re pretending to be

Angel hair thin
Slivers of enamel

Insides of the cat
Sticking to the gravel

Let’s embrace
As the organs unravel

You’re porcelain grin
Off-centre of chin

Not a smile but a fault line
I can’t feel a single fucking thing

Eat these fucking teeth
Pluck them one by one

I want to see you swallow
Every last fucking one

Eat these fucking teeth
Suck the pulp, chew the dentin

They don’t deserve the time
They have spent in me

Are we going to do this?
What tools do you need?
Just a towel
And a whole lot of heaving

I staggered out
With crimson mouth
32 trenches
Of near perfection
Track Name: Like Forest Fire
Burning bright
Arcing and dying in your own light
Arrived like an atom bomb
Making landfall on my skin

Can’t help but turn to look
When I know I should be running
Direct hit
Strip flesh from bone

Spread like forest fire
Swallowing the air
So fast, so soon
All is consumed

Swept in a flash flood
Filling the frame
My view widens
Space and time renew
Track Name: A Dog In The Oven
Salutations my dear roadkill
You look like you’ve had a cheap haircut

You smell like your uncle
Set your bed on fire

You taste like someone left
A dog in the oven

Salutations my old panic attack
You sound like a drowning vicar

You move like
Your bones must have melted

You dance like a confused paper bag
Soaked in animal fat

Salutations my pointless pleasure
You command respect like a scrambled egg

You impress the gathered crowd
Like a lake of stale milk

You strut your stuff
Like a filthy armchair

Salutations you feral charmer
With the eyes of an ashtray

You make small talk
Like a beauty pageant lobotomy

You are everything
I aspire to be
Track Name: High Level Gutter Clearance
Gorging on melting blubber
We’ve got nosy neighbours for supper

And if our stomachs groan
We’ll have more neighbours tomorrow

Nancy and Gary, are bringing their cousins
We’d better heat up both ovens?

Fill your plate, eat like a pig
They’ll be plenty left for the fridge

Eileen and Colin are bringing the starters
A heart-warming touch, the delectable martyrs

Jenny and Arthur have baked us a cake
How long should an average torso take?
Track Name: Blue Gardens
Gulping, licking, fucking, nothing

Gushing, gaping, sticky, tasting

Horror spews forth, gushing from a suburban patio
Sticky kitchen windows, a lukewarm, threadbare messiah

You are a foul Jesus, licking, gulping the uptake of ruin
Facing the saddest gardens

Deliveries, from the scorned and the sacred
We’re not very well, authors of abject misfortune

The script is written, do not aspire for more
It’s apt to remind you, there’s no-one behind you
Track Name: Let the Oil Soak Out
Tangled corpses on the strand
Their blood swallowed between stones

Let the oil soak out

Looking north from the harbour
The land feels like it’s slipping away

Grease in every cavity
Plays tricks upon the sanity

Lurching out
Sicker and larger

With a butcher’s knife
In the shoulder blade
Clear to the hilt

Oh, how the waves wail
Telling their unpromising story
Of sodden fog
And fornication

Cowardly, wasteful, pathetic, ungrateful
Cynical, haphazard, neurotic, self-centred

The poverty of thought
The Atlantic ocean is not wet enough to pull this nail from my jaw
I’m the most disgusting person alive, and I’m trying to apologise

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