1. |
Casting Spells
02:27
|
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my sin is the deadly wisdom.
the confirmation laid bare of
the root as it’s decline.
this in all things i am
dissolved.
the curse is alive
and stained everywhere.
|
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2. |
Trepanning Infinity
01:12
|
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i know you to the bone, bravest truest.
pent to be the twist or a palp of control.
embittered silence, frozen forever
in time is just wasted breath. the ghosts
in winters’ constant arrest. now;
end.
much thou knowest now
all fortune is not fair.
i know this to the bone.
|
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3. |
Sleep For A Year
01:38
|
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in a minute there is time
then how should this begin.
the night and i lived too long,
in fear of longer days and watching
the skies fill up and retreat.
so i relate and i repeat:
“every hour is numb,
and strangely comforting”.
to sleep! to prepare for life
or the last twist of
the knife.
|
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4. |
Endoteric
00:23
|
|||
alone in all i’ve known. i’ve
never had a changing heart.
|
||||
5. |
||||
with pace torn ahead
past the linden and the bound’ry.
the presence unfound is with me to
endure the truth, sight and sound.
secrets stars hid’n grey
fade as they cease to shine.
summoner and communicator;
in nothing, there is loss
in all undone, untruth.
did i see you in the shadows,
hurt and afraid?( at what point
did) we forget to forge beyond
the past.
|
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6. |
The Spectacle
02:24
|
|||
the lines are corrupt, they
fail to connect or communicate (that)
the light of this world has set upon us.
we turned our heads, to avert
the gaze of a thousand eyes
fared forth on fated days.
venom-hardened, to
defend and resist.
|
||||
7. |
Etiäinen
00:28
|
|||
look out to the wasteland.
the sensation of loss is instant,
the dead weight of sorrow hung.
|
||||
8. |
||||
the years of broken dreams,
the years of redemption
not a single move set to
burst without regret,
is there a fault within this
self-afflicting misery,
or is there fate that moves
every guided hand to it’s own end?
how far, this enveloping light -
hear it beg to swallow whole.
this tensioned wire that divides
what is done and what was right.
|
||||
9. |
22:22
03:08
|
|||
into the wild, we seperate and unfold;
not yet awake to tread the split-tongued path
in greater grief or with the end in sight.
unsung lament, i see
a filtered vision whilst i sleep
or even close my eyes.
here begins the root,
the dark hand approaching,
astretch.
no illusion, no attachment.
no sympathy. no enlightenment.
i have faith in only one thing,
i believe in the end (until i don’t.)
|
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10. |
Systole
02:06
|
|||
forerun, i feel your finger stretch the vein;
bound tight and protruding through the
chambers. do you seek
to heal? i don’t see you but i
know your unnatural hand
that reaches forth again and
again in continuous alarm.
there is no rest (in the silence, or
in the trembling cold stillness;) than
in memory as the end of all thought.
|
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