1. |
In The Doldrum
01:07
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2. |
Ceremonial
02:48
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Open your stagnant wit, the satire woven within; and sing those black tongue songs from the bottom of your missing lungs. Hollowed days were meant for us. Earnest nights were meant to fool us. We came from the same rotting crown. You were born in a lone burial mound. A thousand times on repeat and counting. With staggering patience, throw your old skin into the dull fire. Without reluctance or misgiving, throw it blindly. Skeptic. Coward. Wanderer. Many faces worn. Wanderer. Coward. Skeptic. In and of themselves, all in the same. They left you for the persistent swarm. Pitch black eyes, exposed jowls. You are not you, in the trenches that lie ahead.
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3. |
Soothsayer
02:15
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Frantic from the lack of air. Scowling from ear to ear. I gazed into the heart of the pretense for the very first time. I stared into the heart of the power. It is perpetual, it is obscure, and this tunnel vision crept nearer and nearer. Come alive insight, Like a beggar in the dirt. Come alive sanity, like a seer sleeping in piles of ash and soot. Strangers gathered under the midnight sun. Restless with fists clenching weathered torches. For those in the distance, who cannot see to see.
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4. |
Dirge
05:08
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Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but we must bare it until the pennies rest over our line of sight. There is no empty promise for our inherent desires, there is no screaming sentiment for our imminent lull. We appeared face to face with this thin existence. I began yelling with frayed fingernails slicing through my withering cheeks “follow me through the gates of this horrid world, follow me into the gut of this bleak truth.” Empty is the mind that bares the unrest, but we must tear it from the inside out. Wear your death crown. Wear it well, wear it well.
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5. |
Crux
02:41
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Awoke but begging for a layer of rest. I gazed at the mumbling mirror for days on end. In an attempt to dissect the organs left behind in the wake. Woe grows like relentless weeds, it bides its time with the taste of false blood on its tongue. It’ll come with twitching hands, and a pair of crooked still legs. Tiptoeing in slightly quiet circles. To devour you alive in a moment’s notice. With a thousand starving pupils, ready to feast on your grief filled wounds. Numb but longing for the same elegant song. It was sung with sewn shut lips, but it was sung nonetheless. I waited for an end to arrive, but it buried itself instead. Heap meet heap. I was the dusk disguised as the dawn.
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6. |
Laiden Tongues
01:40
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7. |
Dolor
04:59
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A garden of faint lights gathered around your body, once and for all. They took you away in the middle of the night. In a matter of moments, you vanished into the thin air. On a mattress of singing branches and weeping leaves. I screamed steadily at the forgotten fields but not a single sound resonated, not a tiny noise in the slightest. There it was, a forlorn morning made for mourning. With my trembling hands I dug a perfect whole beneath and filled it with the limbs of the sorrow I’ve collected. I fell into it head first and mouth stretched open. There it came, like an impending thrum. I coughed up a hundred mounds of mud and said “even when we are vacant, we are still luminous.” They took you away in the middle of the night. A garden of faint lights gathered around your body, once and for all.
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