A stranger in the north
Of questionable worth
A lonely pack of wolves
No shade no complex hues
Never saw color come through
Never saw hate making roots
I may be party to the slaughter
But i'm trying hard to build something better
You've aged fermented hate to bitter ink
You drink yourselves to death on Euskadi
Roma are starving in your streets
North Africans are dealing in your streets
Americans are sleeping on your streets
You tell me they want it that way
You tell me they've got in coming
You are the force of the hate
You are the pack of wolves
Your nationalism's suicide
Your nationalism's murder
Producer/songwriter Benjamin Schurr blends the medieval with the industrial in Rush, writing harrowing songs with a mystical aura. Bandcamp New & Notable May 13, 2023