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The Weight Around Her Neck
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Spoken words from the frosty lips of Her Rotting Poetry Chick...
metal gothic dark death black
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The underbelly of persecution is the damp and foul scent of Death/Doom/Black and Classic Metal.
Three musicians that shared the same vision of bringing a distinctive band to the underground metal community conceived Her Rotting Ways in Niles, MI during the fall of 2004. Influenced by Death/Black/Thrash and Doom Metal, Her Rotting Ways combines these and a melodic sense of violence to construct one of the more original sounding bands within their genre. The ever-changing riff exchange between guitar, bass and drums keeps the listeners busy before the onslaught of sheer vocal terror rings the ears. Intermittent melodies and soaring guitar solos share center stage with the darkened shroud Her Rotting Ways casts abroad, seducing the audience with its succubus-like tendencies. The bands name symbolizes the positive and negative sides of what some say to be the most powerful and influential being known to man.Woman. The demise of Liberty standing on the New York Harbor, the wicked winds of change redesigning our landscape compliments of Mother Nature, the scars left behind from a love once lost, or the simple seduction from the innocent beauty all women possess can describe what we now call Her Rotting Ways. DOWNLOAD ALL SONGS FOR FREE!!
Song Info
Genre
Rock Goth Rock
Charts
#28,381 today Peak #296
#699 in subgenre Peak #9
Author
words-Angie Palsak/sounds-Matthew Tranker
Rights
Her Rotting Music
Uploaded
January 20, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.7 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Lyrics
The Weight Around Her Neck She can be so rotten; The enchanting siren Perched on a precipice of sharp stone Her black hair waving in a wicked breeze Beckoning to you, Singing to you, Lies, whispers, Urging you to steer your ship Close to the jutting rocks On which she sits, waiting. She can be so beautiful; Ivory skin, golden hair The mother of your children, The keeper of the hearth, The willing lover. Down her velvet cheek, tributaries of tears form and stain the silky curtains billowing around her as she watches you leave. Whichever way she is And often she is a little of both, You must excuse her For she carries a tremendous burden Around her neck and upon her shoulders For there rests the hula dancer’s lei, The nun’s crucifix, Rapunzel’s hair, The cow’s bell, The wicked queen’s cape, Florence Nightengale’s stethoscope, The mermaid’s shells, The stripper’s boa, And the bar maid’s towel All this she bears and yet her neck isn’t Limp and broken Like a tulip after a hail storm. Instead she proudly walks uphill, Carrying this weight She’s a caddy with a bag full of bowling balls A postman delivering cinder blocks, Her feet dig into the earth, With each step her calves grow stronger And become chiseled like rock. And there you are, At the bottom, Left alone, Looking up.
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