Can’t seem to trust my recollection. Thoughts are losing definition. Lost in between, the dust of life refined in this hardpan. Nights I sweat cold, days lost in translation. The worlds I create between reality and dreamscape…anguish.
The Mind:
This life so bitter, at times so sweet. When things seem safe and sound and the darkest of days are counting down. They return with the ferocity of denial. Skepticism of my own stoic lifestyle seems convoluted and approaching disaster. But my heart continues to pump this black, black blood thick, that sickens me to the soul. My life a disaster gone out of control.
The Mist:
Out in this place it’s hard to tell if he is being followed or left behind. This arid land drenched in hatred. It’s relentless this hardpan, endless.
The Man:
Is this hell or merely visions? It must be real for my body burns with friction.
The Mist:
His breath is blue, the land is red. The eyes become glass. His body sheds.
He stands in the desert he is falling through dreams. Walking in sand. Running through dreams.
The Man:
I can’t complain I’ve brought this on myself with a life full of listless campaigns and mistakes. Headed towards the plains suffer I must but in peace it will be. Far away from the snakes and the heat.
Crushing blackened doom from this German band that counterbalances blinding fury with moments of surprising, melancholy melody. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 8, 2023