Vocals: | Winston McCall |
Guitars: | Jeff Ling |
Guitars: | Luke Kilpatrick |
Drums: | Ben Gordon |
Bass: | Jia O'Connor |
Virtue is lost. Beyond this sleek veneer. Beneath the neon existence. Her face is grey, and everything she longs for turns to black. The chemicals bring little vindication and white lines lace every vein, does she realise what she has become? But she’s not waking and she’s still failing. But she’s not waking. She’s still failing. Follow the sirens' song to face this empty cycle. Searching the darkest nights. Searching the silence. And does it make you sick? “Can you hear me, is she conscious?” Does it make you feel beautiful? Bloodshed under the streetlight. And does it make you sick? “Oh god we’ve got a bleeder here.” Does it make you beautiful?
Heartbreak under the streetlight. She’s lost again. Adrenalin strains corrupted arteries. Virtue is lost. Beyond this sleek veneer. Beneath the neon existence. Her face is grey and everything she longs for is pulling away. Follow the sirens song to face this empty cycle. Searching the darkest nights. Searching the silence. Dead by first light. They can’t wipe the blood from her eyes. Dead by first light.
In the kitchen of the Byron Bay home of Winston McCall stands a refrigerator, adorned on one side by a quote from Tom Waits: "I …