Study of mushroom She wetted herself
(I put knife there)
Two fingers on Don Vito
I mean it is push-up brassiere
This not a pipe ,babe
This is not a song
(You’re not a song ,woooo)
‘This scar is so political’
1945 said
God dips strawberries
In the chocolate
Sitting on the chair
In the Disney world
‘What made your Life so difficult?’
‘My temple tries to kill himself
Oh this is the third time in a month’
I became Coltrane
No,I think I am Slavoj Žižek
I dedicated all To pass the time
This kind of shame is grammatically wrong
#sexwiththepast
#rapethepast
Look at that
New tragedy was born in this family
Satisfied with my depression
And I’ll die like an animal
And I’ll die as an animal
- Lyricist
[Lily]
- Composer
[Lily]
Listen to Diablo Rain Says..., after slow death coming into sanctified land, that... by [Lily]
Streaming / Download
- 1
Datura
[Lily]
- 2
Sharon Hayes
[Lily]
- 3
The Sewing Machine and the Bat Umbrella
[Lily]
- 4
Panopticon
[Lily]
- 5
κύκλος
[Lily]
- 6
More Pricks Than Pilgrimage
[Lily]
- 7
Nada Rosa
[Lily]
- 8
Still Guava Above Spike
[Lily]
- 9
Pikey
[Lily]
- 10
Drowse
[Lily]
- ⚫︎
Diablo Rain Says..., after slow death coming into sanctified land, that...
[Lily]
E - 12
Sacrifice
[Lily]
- 13
Deterritorialisation
[Lily]
The name Lily is taken from ''Almost Transparent Blue''. We wrote the songs with the concept of recapitulating the violence that existed at the time. Not to build up in the repeating days, but to keep living off to the side. The emphasis is on continuing to change, and the songs combine a certain radicalism, irony, and silliness, as Burroughs said, 'Drugs is one way of life'.
Even if at times we are flooded with feelings of dying, the footprints of this curse-like violence that existed will keep us moving forward into an open future. And maybe one day some fond excavator will discover that there were deformed dinosaurs. And its prehistoric roar will also summon up ghosts that could never have existed.
Artist Profile
[Lily]
The most wierd post-rock band in this miserable world. Inspired by Gilles Deleuze. Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. We are (not) alone
