1. |
Turmoil
06:45
|
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laid in my grave,
cotton sheets wrap me tight.
the mausoleum holds back the wind,
but it’s always right outside.
I hold fires made from you,
in the palm of my hands.
showing me that theres no way back.
a crippled frame,
a husk of a man,
this house is black.
as the trees sway back and forth,
the hum of the world is deafening.
there is no escape,
as the sky crushes me.
these memories paint a better life
but the blood is spreading through the cloth.
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2. |
Husk
03:54
|
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Lower me down into the cold arms of Earth
Let her children feast on my carrion vessel
In the absence of light I shall be reborn...
-E.C.B.
|
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3. |
Odour of Lions
04:30
|
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engulfed by the branches,
these fingers clasp shut.
blotting out the sun.
with a whisper,
on the wind.
a breath of warning.
glass mirror water.
reflecting all you see.
the fallen swim beneath.
land full of old.
with steps untaken.
forever misplaced.
like another world,
where the dusk feeds.
devour everything.
filled with decay,
and acidic sweetness.
the odour of lions.
ancient breaths resonate.
the roots shuffle through the earth.
the paths connect, the soul fears death.
as the forest takes command of it.
the body of a titan.
with it’s fingers clasp shut.
denying the sun.
there is no warmth.
there is no reprieve.
this soil takes all that walk above.
screaming danger, as beauty breaks.
the hand of death crawls forward.
the air is stagnant.
filled with decay,
and acidic sweetness.
the odour of lions.
|
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4. |
Ash Rain
04:16
|
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the ashes, smother my eyes.
fading light,
demons creep before me.
weighted down, by these chains,
made of tongues and teeth.
engraved.
distant now, the light only screams,
a haunting,
of hate I can’t escape.
words of power, force me still.
the bitter truth.
I hope it fucking rains.
as the smoke, worms its way in.
choking me,
defiled by the pain.
the blood seeps out.
from my charcoal skin.
the curse is spoken.
I hope it fucking rains.
as my mind,
forgets it’s voice.
an echo of mourning.
as the pain becomes life.
I’m still bitter, I still hate you.
cause the people I once knew.
are nothing now.
are nothing now.
I hope it,
I hope it fucking rains.
|
Moss Eater Reading, UK
Post-Doom from the bowels of Berkshire
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