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Sour Grapes

by Goratory

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    350x Regular Black Vinyl with artwork from Tony Koehl.
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Rat King 03:07
In the Kingdom of the animals, a genus like our kind, Is a population growing neither serpent nor a swine.  Rattus Rodentia! In our filth they flourish, with a taste for waste,  They're in every major city,  Found in every ancient race. Dumpster diving, sewer dwelling, nests are swelling.  The order of the scavenger.  When any civilization grows beyond their means,  Nature will do as she please. Epic volumes building up a piss and blood and shit formation.  Physically drowning in a sea of sludge.  Wouldn't you think that a species of this kind would adapt to the climate of a permeating grime? Rat bodies start to stick to one another!   Binding in the rot! Panic starts to set in among the rat community.  Sisters and brothers, conjoining to each other.  Attempting to claw, and climb their way out of this mess.  A populace stressed.  Twisting and writhing in untimely death.  Squirming and shrieking the woes of this nest. A new beast spawned as the hearts stop beating.  A vile phenomenon begins to manifest.  A rat king is born.  The only form of nature that grows in death. Fused in decay.   Suffocate in filth, A monster being built,  Turning on each other, because in death there is no guilt.  There's only so much space,  An overcrowded place,  Getting out alive is a goddamn rat race.
A beat down bastard will bite, contrary to common belief. The broken man gains power through grief.  The ate-up Asshole.   Day after day, without a break, an encompassing failure of fucking mistakes. Existence is shot, you get what you bought.  Only time will tell how low you'll go; it's a stench that the crows know. Volatile like gasoline,  It's a pain, or a yearning, nestled somewhere in between.   Last call-one more-drink until you hit the floor. Had enough of playing the fool- Explicit transformation arriving in its purest form. Blood is piss and vinegar. The chips are always down, the deck is never hot.  Going through the motions like a goddamn robot.   The tides are getting ready to turn.  Loaded, in the red, on 95. The red and blues got a hard-on for you.  You cannot kill what's been destroyed.  One thing is for certain you won't be like the rest,  Some Asshole said it best. The darkest parts thrive, should you choose to close your eyes. If at first you don't succeed, none of this means shit to me,  The chainsaw kiss good bye.  Fuming like a bullshit,  Stinging like a split lip. Fake it till you make it, and you look like a cunt.  That liquor got you feeling right at home as you gain speed, edging to the point of destruction.  Shifting into first,  The next ride is a hearse,  Sun is on horizon shining ending to a curse.  The end is growing near,  Fading is the fear,  And finally it's here. There's beauty in simplicity the goddamn point of arrival.  The drop off is ahead,   A final push for dead.  We regret to inform you (x2)
Lysergic hits that make you have to take a shit.  A quack chemist, we'll call him Dr. Corprophagia.  On a quest for Enlightenment, with a fetish for excrement.  The latest batch is finally cooked: he calls this blotter "farter." The next step is some subjects to test: A filthy group of hippies who are acid-obsessed. Burning man will do. They all smell like shit to begin with. The experiment is flawless,  No one will catch on.  The day the drum circle went wrong. Blowing your mind, tripping face on a tasty jam.  While you soil those secondhand, ludicrous patchwork pants.  A sea of dreadlocks and shit-stained Birkenstock's. Crystal selling, glass blowing, live-art, dope smoking, tar-toking, business hippies' ass exploding. A half hour in the cramps will begin, battling farts, a war being waged that you will not win. Was it the mushrooms made into tea? Was it the blow? Was it the E? I am the doctor, y'all know me! I just shit your pants! The desert sun ripens rot in a hazmat nightmare.  Flower power needs a shower hour.  Incoherent lunatics covered in waste. At last the climax...  A wooden idol towering 10 stories high, Ready to be set ablaze.  Bring out the butane.  No one considered the amount of the methane.
I recall it all in flashes.  What was left unconsumed is now ashes.  Power turned to powder. Rice on my Suede socks? Chop you into pieces and puree you into sauce.  Pride defiled your discretion, black-and-blue from teeth impressions. Liver with a twist of lime. Had this shit coming for a long fucking time. Crafting sandwiches out of spleen.  Wash it down with some homemade lean.  Aortic casserole hits the spot.  Reduction with a deep-fried varicose blood clot.  My meals stay kept for days.  Food stamps from beyond the grave. Bless this bitch our daily bread. You were so full of yourself, and now I'm full of you.  My bottom feeder stew. You may have left me broke, but I won't let you leave me hungry.  You had a bone to pick, and now I'm going to pick my teeth with your bones. Feasting on the nerve of this bitch- Hold my beer- Biting on the hand that feeds me- Committed crime and its dinner time- Hold my beer- Gorging on the hand that feeds me- Swimming in your guts,  Spaghetti supersized,  This is your last supper and your permanent demise. Sauteed slop, chewing eyeballs till they pop.   Cutting through your entrails like a hungry hungry hippo.  Flossing your innards out of my incisors.   Bolognese from human waste.    Each time i cashed my check,  I saw my hands around your neck,  Boiled brains in bladder soup, Savoring the kidney stomach goop. In life you were a piece of shit,  Now, in death, you are my shit.
Somewhere down the line, living on borrowed time wasn't a threat or a terminal sign.  We used to believe that we as creatures grow and adapt.  Unfortunately through choices we've made, Darwinism soon collapsed. The age of laziness spreads like lice.  Fast food delivery caters the vice.  The click of a button to service a glutton.  Obesity's rampant- there's no discussion.  Anti-vaxxers causing panic. Measles, Mumps, please have some Xanax.  Cholera and Polio, Typhoid's back the death rate's low.  TB, Zika, plague the cities, tumors in titties, goddamn pity...  Goddamn pity! That which used to kill us doesn't do shit anymore.  We're going to need a new plague just to even the score.  A positive AIDS test, just doesn't cut it no more. Technology has brought us too far, drunk drivers safe in their robotic cars.  Radiation exposure, when will it end? Human foreclosure. Ocean's fucked, tummy tuck, living makes our planet suck.  Diabetic shock, a shot of insulin. Pus is leaking out your dick-hole, here's some fucking Penicillin.  A call for court appointed sterilization- Forcible chemical castration. Natural selection-  Nature wants you to die. But like the cockroaches you are, somehow you will find a way to survive. What can you do? I sit in my room and do coke till I puke.  Kneeling before the porcelain God! Open your eyes....  The world wants you to kill yourselves! Grab your neighbor, hold them close, smash them in their fucking face. You know what you have to do, don't make me come after you. Humanity is rotten- Build a giant coffin- Carbon turns to Nitrogen to help the soil soften.
Predator for those impoverished,  Maniacal wizard of mind control projects,  "Please rise, and leave your lives behind."  Maintain a code of silence,  Your jewels and your cash will go to his pocket.  All of your values and all of your worth-  Leave it aside for your profit to docket. "Forget your names my brothers and sisters. I am your Lord, your father and mother. You are my prey, and I the Piranha. Now pack up your shit, let's go to Guyana." Through the brush, machetes that mangle the jungle- Clear a path for reverend's wrath. The compound appears in the midst of all the thicket.  He sold you a lie, and you went ahead and purchased the ticket. "I'm your God, I'm your Jesus. I gave you life in this Utopia....All this for us! Praised be the People's Temple. Praised be those I've fixed.  There's only one way out of Jonestown, and it sits in the drinks we've mixed." Assassinating embassy officials, Gunned down, on the airport runway. "Let the night roar!" "Cyanide will help us hide, and take us to the other side." Don't fight the wine, it's a gift, it's divine.  Choke upon your bile as you bleed out your eyes, A slow pathetic panic of a human demise. Collapse and rot in a massive grave, Religion was a fallacy you dead, bloated slave.  Stiff and contorted you diminish. Bet you thought you'd go out with a grimace.
Piss flaps, fist fuck, sodomized infant. The shit-out-of-luck, tumor ridden coma slut. Now you're dead, getting pegged, bottom in a gang bang. Anal Cunt to Anal Slut. Each performer taking turns: the 311 demon clones. Strap it on to make you gag, the girth of nature's punching bag. Look, I just saw the gayest guy in hell.   Spit roasted it suits you well. Persona like a mutant.  But we know you dude, you're from fucking Newton.  You used to sell porno mags to kids in Natick. (pig squeals x4) Fuck you cause you're dead, Now you're giving Satan head.  Force fed demon splooge,  Loads of jizz inside of you,  Bukkake in a Putnam stew. Giving hand jobs to skinheads while Josh Martin jerks off in the corner.  40 more reasons to hate you when you're dead. The prophet of grind beginning to whine, bent over squealing deliverance swine. Open your cheeks, you gape like a priest, swimming in semen since your life has ceased. Phil Anselmo's not here to save you now,  Good luck finding a gig!  The only 7inch split is your asshole on a dick.   The only D.I.Y. show, is the one where you get fucked, Bro. GG pulls his light-switch of a boner out of you, dripping AIDS goo, gonna make a Sissy out of you.   It's what you've always wanted, you're finally fucking true, master daddy creampie your brown eye blue. Junkie fuck,  Grind is king,  A sofa chair on stage you bring,  A final fuck you we will sing.


Boston/Massachusetts sickest perverts finally back after SIXTEEN years with a NEW album of degenerating, grinding and schizoid technical Brutal Death! Feat. current and ex members from Deeds Of Flesh, Arsis and Job For A Cowboy.

Emerging from Massachusetts in 2000, Goratory quickly established themselves with an aggressive, hard partying style, debaucherous live show and technical musicianship. Releasing 3 full length albums (2001’s Sexual Intercorpse, 2002’s Orgasm Induced Diarrhea, and 2004’s Rice on Suede), touring internationally and performing at high profile death metal festivals around the world, the band has forever left its mark on the Brutal Death Metal scene. Semi-notorious as the band where most major death metal musicians from New England got their start, Goratory was a launching pad for members who later played with notable acts such as Arsis, Deeds of Flesh, Job for A Cowboy, The Black Dahlia Murder, Despised Icon, Sexcrement, and Abnormality.
After a spell of inactive years, finally, the great shit show of 2020 was fully realized as the ultimate lineup of Adam Mason (Vocals), Al Glassman (Guitars), Zach Pappas (Bass) and Darren Cesca (Drums) has returned! Sour Grapes, the band's first studio album in 16 years is the fourth dose of bulbous fungus that these evolved, belligerent assholes have consumed and shat upon the world. It's disgusting. You're gonna love it.

For fans of Malignancy, Cryptopsy, Mucopus and Pillory.


released October 16, 2020

Guitars recorded at Belligerent Asshole Studios (New Hampshire Chapter).
Vocals and drums recorded at House of Grind Studios.
Bass recorded at Belligerent Asshole Studios (Maine Chapter).
Mixing and Mastering by Darren Cesca at House of Grind Studios.
Vinyl Mastering by Carlo Altobelli at Toxic Basement Studios.
Artwork and layout by Tony Koehl.
"Back To The Grinding Machine" lyrics by Jay Blaisdell, originally released as "Into The Grinding Machine" on Sexual Intercorpse.

Alan Glassman - Guitars
Zachary Pappas - Bass
Darren Cesca - Drums
Adam Mason - Vocals


© 2020 Goratory
℗ 2020 Everlasting Spew Records


all rights reserved



Everlasting Spew Records Brescia, Italy

Everlasting Spew is a label/mailorder based in Italy with the focus to bring you selected titles from bands and labels that distinguished themselves for their quality. We come from two decades of passion and dedication into the genre.
Death, grind and doom, this is what we deal with.
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