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Private Hell or the Afternoon Blueness from a Windowsill in Acushnet

by Wolf Whistle

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1.
Welcome in to the dream. See the sweat: a perfect gleam. All the faith & love is here with me, chained at the bottom. Look around: Fluorescent skies tumble down. All the faith & love is here with me, chained at the bottom. You can pray and you can leave, without me, your white faith. But please stay here with me in my warm blue hell.
2.
I will, when I’m done pushing blades in the burning sun. “Life’s a blade of glass,” said God, “to cut.” “Don’t forget this patch when you’re fucking done.” I will, when I’m done cheating Death in his burning sun. “Is that so? Is that right? Cheat me and get eternal life.” “Life’s a blade of glass,” said God, “to cut.” “Don’t forget this patch when you’re fucking done.” I will, when I’m done. Smiling big at your burning at the foot of the mound in your burning sun.
3.
Chainpull 02:43
Chain. Pull. “Walk through my sweet dark night.” Night found on ground. A black sun night run. Fear found in sound. Death faced in dark space. “Walk through my sweet dark night.” Chain. Pull.
4.
Sleep tight in your light. I’m running out into the dark of night Because my fears hide right in the black of suburban skies. Miles & miles in my head –circle & circle, without end. When you can’t sleep, can’t dream – You can think. You can sink. You can sting. You can see all the fears that hide in the sun. You can pace. You can race. You can face all the fears of a fatherless son. Miles & miles in my head –circle & circle, without end. Eden: A sunny day in an Acushnet park. But, Fear’s Face only comes to light in the dark. Miles & Miles.
5.
24 hours is never enough. Just 24 years, is just too fucking much. Green leaves all fall to gravel, and my fears of death unravel. Where did they go? Are they turning for you? Are they going brown, curling on the ground? Green leaves all fall to gravel, and my fears of death unravel.
6.
The day is long and I’m bleeding into the night before leaving. But when I’m gone, who will feed you? Fleas in your ears, who will treat you? Run over by a truck, or by a van. A woman screams, “Who hit that man?” Oxygen leaves your breaking brain as sad eyes meet for one last great pain. I croon: “How wrong? How cruel? So long.” Run over by a truck, or by a van. A woman screams, “Who hit that man?” Oxygen leaves your breaking brain as sad eyes meet for one last great pain. Unfair, human error. Unleashed, holy terror: Unknown, little loner. Unloved, without an owner. Run into the wild as you once did in Pomerania, undomesticated. Eat what you can get. The bowl’s about as full as my spliced and smashed to shit skull. “How long can this go on?”
7.
Good Gods 02:07
Patron Saint of Lost Things, Anthony, not available to me. Mary Magdalene locked away in NB. Francis, save me. Francis, saint that you are. Francis, forgive me and my human heart. Oh Jude, to have you and a little fortitude. So Saint Pete, if not me, watch over big T.V. Francis, save me. Francis, saint that you are. Francis, forgive me and my human heart. Here I kneel, before you, contrite and tight in your little pews. Here I kneel, before you, saying prayers of no fucking use.
8.
Pilgrims 01:58
See a face | pale white – tears drop from opening eyes Hear a voice | call to you – plea a case: sad, blue and true. Go and grow, or I’ll drag you – Empathize – for a time. My pain is a blinding light. Live your life – not mine. Your love won’t make the sun shine. Go and grow, or I’ll drag you – I’ll drag you down into a sea of grief meant to be swam by me and only me. Your friends must grow. Your friends must go.
9.
10.
Acushnet, my love, White Whale, my home, I seek. I see. I scream, chasing. Acushnet, my love, my home, my hole, I seek. I see. I scream, chasing on.
11.
Meat Man 02:37

about

On their final LP, Wolf Whistle slow down a step to explore the existential dread in the residential areas of their youth. A gruesome true crime story that points the finger at a host of offenders, from the local “Meat Man” to heaven’s own last line of defense: St. Peter. There is little innocence left in this sweaty cul-de-sac of Melvins-esque primal punk. “Private Hell…” is oppressive humidity captured sonically, a detailed account of a specific suburban misery. A bug-zapper hums through the background of 11 songs, as old skeletons get unearthed behind the toolshed of your parents' home. Vocals reverberate like your neighbors' domestic disturbance; a muffled echo off vinyl siding. As you contemplate a swan dive into a drained in-ground pool, you realize 25 minutes have passed. Did you notice the melted ice cream dripping down your arm?

-Nick Collins

credits

released September 11, 2019

Recorded by The Meat Man in New Bedford, MA.

Trevor - Music
Pat - Vocals

Derek Dasilva and Tyler Dipaola played on "Miles & Miles"

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Wolf Whistle New Bedford, Massachusetts

Then. Now. Forever.

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