1. |
Tři Tváře
01:04
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2. |
Tři Závěti
07:35
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A band of archers spew arrows through twitching twisten necks within the frigid entwinment of bone blockades, organs and muscles hanging from arterial puppet strings, in the grasp of a master who sleeps within his own shadow. Desperate, he feebly attempts to decipher the multitude of all form.
The porcelain masks we speak to on trodden lattice works cyclically only project barbed and distorted outlines of souls. Assemblages of allies smile at barely disparate reflections of their
own beaten and Xeroxed faces, and while sleepwalking try to conceal the barren fields of their minds by draping human like cloaks over their heads. They only silhouette the drying brook dripping down; the bare and cracked bark covered oesophagus that is desperate to cry out in anguish.
Screams unheard, yearning to resonate outwards and preach to a blindfolded assembly. These attempts remain soaked to the bone, dripping in futility and only spawn raw and crimson tarnished throats.
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3. |
Carnassial
05:29
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These still waters disguise a hideous intention. A Kaleidoscope vision of a disfigured face, A ravenous wolf castrated and cloaked in an ember shroud. We can let centuries of memory pass, while plots and plans revolve and expound within the protection of bone blockades.
A solitary pile of kindling when agitated by ephemeral winds pushed through fate, can give rise to an unparalleled hate exposed by that single diminutive action. When the poisonous air corrupts the lungs of a man once virtuous, reluctant hands trembling with vulgar salacity will carve through that which is ignorant and innocent.
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4. |
Secrets In The Soil
02:57
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Pale spectres confounded, resting on guilty shoulders;
I see them haunting every step.
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5. |
Pride In Descent
05:46
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Our kin, the ones we love and the ones we abhor. Their expressions are plagued by resentment, They're seldom seen with the veil tore from their exasperated faces. If skin is shed their body is caressed by the unfamiliar and haunting wind. His flesh, unaccustomed to the sun's yield is seared by the unforgiving light.
Envisioning the monoliths of morality crumble, nebulous shadow talons bore into his ribcage actualising his bestial metamorphosis. Evolving beyond the steel cords of communion and rage. Ash spawned blades rip through empathic vines, and they mutter his blessed name; Demon.
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6. |
Chest Of Light
07:08
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"I obeyed the whims of fear
and hysteria".
Adrenaline escorting him through colourless voids. Through viperous forests, murderous deserts, the rose; coiled. Venom of the earth was swallowed joyously, and poison sap spilled into a chest of light buried in shade.
Bed made in a moss and rubble amalgam his shadows appear in the water, raising the executioners sword, preparing to swing down on his tired neck. Rising proud, eyes faced toward the sky, basking in the blur, the pain of reality.
"A step towards where I must be."
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7. |
Clandestine Fractures
05:09
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Hordes of people clasp hands and whisper incantations for fanciful guardians residing in the amaranthine void. No ears listen, no eyes see, no hands push pawns on a jagged spherical chess board toward gratifying fates. The pieces witness numbers and probabilities shape the lenses of their retina.
"An answer has been found!"
From pitiless trials; eyes wide shut insinuating. A divine hand is the warm winter glove over their shivering hands, when gold chains stop exasperating.
Guardians sit atop the amaranthine void. An abortion of reality, the child is hollow but not in their minds, through their love, their
perspective.
Holy elixir to drown his sorrow
"Permeate these scars, these fractures inside me"
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8. |
A Perfect Suicide
07:27
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Hands lurch forward with no hesitation. The hands push on, the resistance is laughable. Two paths of death or dying are now perceived. Eyes faced toward the sky, basking in the pain.
And his arms will rise up proudly, eyes faced toward the sky basking in the pain of reality.
Horns splitting his skull, translate his crimson painting, a centurial legacy, a perfect suicide. With blades in both hands, breaching the gut of people who will never hear their name spoken in majesty.
"Entwine me with shadow, the silence would be my hell"
Sitting in a bloodied lotus pose, bathed in the arrogance of his twisted meditation.
Bathed In Ash.
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9. |
His Crimson Painting
01:32
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10. |
...Of All Eyes
01:10
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Cynosure...
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Patrons of The Rotting Gate Belfast, UK
Progressive Black/Death Metal from Belfast, Northern Ireland
thesuburbofsolituderecords.bandcamp.com
Influences include: Orgone, Latitudes, Deathspell Omega, Gorguts, Mirrorthrone, Meshuggah, Asmodee, Ulcerate, Spawn of Possession, Unholy Matrimony, Baring Teeth, Altar of Plagues, Pyrrhon, Dodecahedron, Der Weg einer Freiheit, Portal
... more
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