Without Virtue

by Carnivores at Grace

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Without Virtue


1. Forward
2. In the Guise of Prisoners
3. It looks like Le Tenia has a New Girlfriend
4. Yahweh (and the Ensuing Fairy Tales)
5. The Mark we Leave
6. Mine Letter
7. Crab Mentality
8. Seven Children Weep for their Mother


released September 18, 2012

Carnivores at Grace is: Brandon Jessee (bass/vocals) and Mike McDonald (Guitars/backing vocals). All songs written and recorded by Carnivores at Grace. Drums tracked by Bradley Stewart. Piano, additional guitars and additional percussion by Brandon. Mixed and mastered by Jamie King of Basement Recordings, NC.

©2012 Carnivores at Grace



all rights reserved


Carnivores at Grace Chicago, Illinois

"Carnivores do an excellent job eradicating the barrier between attention deficit hardcore and rippin’ arid style stoner rock"

-- Orlandooom! Promotions Review

Playing shows and touring since August 2011, CAG has self released a full length, "Without Virtue," and will be releasing a split record in February 2014. You can see them play in Chicago and all around the mid-west..
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Track Name: Forward
A mask is placed in lieu of costume. You yearn to be the Swan of Avon, professing thy love in groans. Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Track Name: In the guise of prisoners
A mask is placed in lieu of costume. You yearn to be the Swan of Avon, professing thy love in groans. Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.

An elegant concept, water beads from your breast and highlights your distraction. Slight of hand conceals your disguise.

Goose of Winchester, your mask cannot hide what melts your visage.

Remind me your name?
Track Name: It looks like le Tenia has a new girlfriend
The nameless to the faceless, an unfamiliar numbness. Oral infused opiates and septum rotting powders: I design what ails. Alas, this time my firm suitor grabs the reins and steers.

Hair falls in handfuls, tears of nothing bellow through the deserted hall. Do with me what you will.

Echoes of muffled cries embody his desire and accelerates imps arrival. My face melts twice over, locks recede tenfold.

The Tapeworm's embrace makes faint mammet scream sans relief under pressured groans.

Aching bones, bludgeoning from the tile below.

I would gaze longingly if mine eyes were not swollen shut.
Track Name: Yahweh (and the ensuing fairy tales)
Hath I not eyes? Do I not bleed? Y'shall close thy door as I do mine.

The thievery you teach I will execute tenfold. My morals do not rely on your treacherous words.

The thievery drawn from willing pockets shower the idols false. Drape the veil and hide thee from reason. I prefer mine darkness to thy light.

Spill your grief and wait your week.
Track Name: The mark we leave
Looking in the mirror: the embodiment of our pride. Mine eyes, thy bones-- an extension of the pair. Remind me your name?

Taunting's the young one's image. Features are blurred, disease is revealed.

Detach the shards. Our attempt to erase regrets. Blunt objects cannot ruin infinite malady.

Memory fails me, your face I can't recall. Number of the suitors I can't recall.

A seething bath? Futile. Unwanted geese, why must you swim? Felines do well in bags.
Track Name: Crab mentality
While I'm cursed I pray. Gluttons of punishment assemble in pots. Let thee be damned I long not a steep and thorny way to heaven.

Neighbors defaming neighbors, it is you who is confronted by the Lord of Death's messengers. Though you wish it were for me I can't hide the hurt brought by your surprise. The reply:

Nay, my dear Brahman, there is no mistake. Just the portrait of your karma-- the paint on your face. There are no blemishes to speak of, just the character portrayed. A flicker of hope rises with the sun despite mine letter.
Track Name: Seven children weep for their mother
All the world's a stage, notice the players who don't belong. They are the actors who forget their exits but never fail to enter. Spotlights glaring behind the scenes, doused in black. Tar seeps in every pore of the unseen stagehands, sans relent.

Famished puppet masters-- unrecognized, appreciated not. Your tattered black garments are soaked from the suffocating shadows that remain as they exit stage left with closed curtains and empty seats about faced.

A worn mattress is where the nameless remains sans reward. A world too wide, too complex.

Your production is wrought with heels. My heart remains neutral.

Return to me with players of compassion, return to me sans villain.

I welcome the eighth scene, but please fast forward mine twice childishness for I long not a shrunk shank-- a dire need for the grave sans oblivion.