I close my eyes and feel the slightest sounds.
I perch here rather patiently, eager for the edge of our kind.
The truth of Man; machines of blood and fire, our creators left us long ago.
In our word the filth here wait for the coming of Gods; enslaved we’re tiered yet still we go on.
Without shedding the fears of death and loss, life will grant us nothing.
Nothing, life will grant us nothing, nothing.
Alleviate by time and simple thrills, while dreading sounds of the machines that we have built.
The guilt in Man; machines of pure desire, our creators left us long ago.
As we’ve knelt here forever against our will, our submission enfolds us and keeps us still.
Without shedding the past, we remain lost... We’ll succumb to nothing.
Nothing, and life will grant us nothing, nothing.
Life will grant us, will grant us nothing.
Thrown amongst our kind an Angel descends onto our lands, he’d sought refuge in Zion he’d sought the purest man.
And as he came before him, what gazed into his soul; had promised him to freedom, had promised a new home.
Though what he saw was a wasteland, forgotten; aired-soil lays it now upon what is rot.
Amongst the tired cold and hungry sat the monarchs, who drove their pupils into the ground.
What once here shone now stands abandoned, within our darkness we here shine as what we are.
Nothing, nothing, nothing far from nothing, nothing.
From a void we came and shall return, to who we are and what we learn; everything comprises nothing.
The metal’s band revelatory new record crosses genres and styles, effortlessly combining seemingly incompatible subgenres. Bandcamp Album of the Day Apr 26, 2024
