Glacial Burners @ Twilight's Last Gleaming

by Glacial Burners

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Glacial Burners #1 offering. Labor of loathing.


released April 20, 2017

All music/lyrics by Glacial Burners. © 2017, Lackey Lung Music.

Glacial Burners are Micbearing and Cleopatra Brimstone.

Drums on “Monsoon Saison” courtesy of Phil Stripling.

Recorded atop Dundalk’s Ivory Tower (RIP) and in the Bomb Shelter, July 2015–August 2016.

Mixed by Glacial Burners in the cockpit of a 2014 Subaru Outback and in the Bomb Shelter, September 2016–January 2017.

Mastered by James Plotkin (

Design and layout by Micbearing.



all rights reserved


Glacial Burners Baltimore, Maryland

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Track Name: #absolution
There’s one simple solution riding a wave of applause
There’s one simple solution driving a craze
I feel like clawing up the wall
There’s one simple solution, try it today
Cuz days ain’t long enough for stalling

Each one could teach one but most teach none
Most ain’t fit to audit 101
Most content to preach some homespun fabrications
Just lie in bed and wait for inspiration
Spit questions wet with pique, but tune out before the answer’s given
Bottom out on a mountaintop, crest in a lull
Find the hive mind that you’ve been searching for

There’s one simple solution to it all
There’s one simple solution
Is anybody home?

So get up (get off)
See how I...
Who’s that...
We’re all...

So high
Track Name: Flesh Presser
Babble like a Pentecost flame

And subtle as a varicose vein

Your heavy glad-hand

Burst my bubble with its lady-lite shake

I thought I'd need a playful escape

But your eyes already gone glazed

It seems a black hole had opened up right in the middle of my face

You go full frontal

And start buggering, brown-nosing, flesh-press the room

I'm like the man who cuts your lawn: invisible

You’ve gone whole hog

A chest-thumping fiasco while pigs mind the store

I'm like the man who cuts your lawn

Pressing is a dangerous game that consumes the patience as it rubs raw

And by the time you taste for the strange
You’ll lose a lover and mix up the names

Remember back in the days of old

When they would stick, stab and burn you

Well all that scrubbing at resentment’s stain

In the end left a lily-white snake
Track Name: Promise Keeper
He’s closer now, he’s gotta stand by his promise
He’s got that god talk summoning
And when he’s on, he’s gotta stand by his promise
Pop off that top, blood bubbling
I shit you not, he’s gotta pounce while he’s honest
Blast all those doubts right out the frame
And what’s his role now?
Don’t wanna dance round the premise
A wild west filmic sage

He’s closer now, he’s gotta stand by his promise
Man how that god talk’s hammering
And so it’s on, he’s gotta stand by his promise
Of virile via gauge
Cuz when he blow, and cock back on his promise
Could this have gone any other way?
And so it’s done now
I heard a blip on the broadcast
And moved on with my day
Track Name: Blue Chip
Bet your dime on Blue Chip, ride along
Stun gunner, cool Chip, prime time
Set to run on instincts, mind the law
Punks catching bruises, drive on

Chip’s on the rooftop
Chip’s on the beat, pounding hard
Someone to make things whole
And humble these toads

Chip’s on the barstool
Chip’s kinda pissed to find the wife ain’t home
Time to make things whole

Bet your dime on Blue Chip, ride along
Bayside bull roast, prime time
Pension on a shoestring, time to brawl
Shake em down in Naptown
Sail on… away
Track Name: Thee Lumpenprole Squeal
Fronts like the mind is spacious
One puff he’s back to basics
His leader soooo persuasive
Scratch/sniff for stank of the racist
He’s writhing out of control
With the squeal of lumpenprole
Bites quick like opportunist
Choke on the taste of the bait/switch

Holds court to bitch with his buds
Guzzling down industrial suds
“Guvmint bennies, nation of bums”
Oxy taunts the tip of his tongue
Lounge out in supple stations
In the midst of dying iration
He’s writhing out of control
With the squeal of lumpenprole

What’s not to buy or be sold?
Wasted hours fisking these trolls
The glacial burners scald
With a heat to melt the mold
Track Name: Bullish Projections
Morning in America, so like a seething choad
Fatty gobble up cold cuts long, keep’a feeding cantaloupe
Little girl with the puppy-dog eyes, soon be teething bone
You’re better off alone

Got the urge to smash the mold, but you
Tremble under a boom-lit brow without the strength to lighten the load
How now that your face is melting down and you’re feeling stoned?
You’re better off alone

Some days are a longing haul, to take a page from Job
Some ladies are fawning does who cut your face to spite your bros, but
I found that girl among the rabble who can spring my soul
I’ll never be alone
Track Name: Mean Regressions
Don’t ever say to me
My shrinking violet queen
“I’d like to set the scene”
Don’t ever say no more
Mine flaky crescent roll
“I’d like to take control”
Don’t ever come to me
With pining eyes to feed
“By rights I take my piece”
Know that your game’s a bore
Best try to find the door
While trying to fake control

Hold it
Why you wait for so long?
Cuz we got no pilots
Just crew to spare

Thrown down a gaping holy
Innocence, you dried me out
Got caught up in the role of erector
So folded
And when you want it down, sold
Get caught up in the pull of a trend line, below
Track Name: Ballad of a Carny-Handed Mango Man, the Human Incarnation of Swine
Isn’t it sweet to have the pink man on your team?
Kicking some ham, oh what a fan of the pink man
Bacon and SPAM®, meal on the spread of the pink man
Snausages® for hands to get the dogs drooling pools, man
Fingers like links, the scrapple lips and the pink cheeks
Imported pršut to make the mate of the pink man
Skin is so smooth just like the first time sans the sheath
Human panini-maker tan, orange-cream man
Isn’t it sweet to have the milkman on your team?
Isn’t it grand to drink a dram of the cream, man?