1. |
Five
05:16
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Vultures blacken crimson skies
circling the killing fields
they gorge themselves ravenously
pandering to apparitions
demanding reverence
from a congregation
of consumers swallowing rhetoric
We know there is no future in politics
no saving grace in superstitions and pious threats
fear kept the heart of the creature
from falling asleep at the wheel
then fell the blade of faith severing mind from beast
Constituents of the divine
halt tongue
can’t see the beauty in the divide
right, wrong
though breaking bread
with sovereigns and slaves
claim none
can’t distinguish between duality and depravity
The phoenix will be born
regress, rebuild, reform
The phoenix will be born
regress, rebuild, reform
and burn
I promise I won't see you again
in heaven or hell
I promise I won't see you again
in heaven or hell
The phoenix will be born
regress, rebuild, reform
The phoenix will be born
regress, rebuild, reform
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2. |
Patterns
05:56
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Heels take me far away from here
Let heavy hands take the wheel
I rode into town on a Sunday
on a gift horse with a mouth full of cavities
My true love was stricken dead
by the man of peace that the cavalry worship
When will we learn only pussies hold tongues?
We count our blessings on broken fingers
and march to the seraphim's song
When will we learn only dead men can claim to be historians?
Baptized in blood, the cross
your fodder for warships or drift wood for drowning mind
You are not the flood
you are the ocean
You are not the blood
you are the tyrant
You postulate a necessity for violent retribution
You know nothing of love
You are not the flood
you are the ocean
You are not the blood
you are the tyrant
The beast of hell walks among us
in the clothes of a common man
and he's been clawing at old wounds just to feel something
You'd suffocate us all just to breathe again
You've been tripping on verbs and contingencies
laced with the fear and the reification of fallacy
And so be it
the figure you kneel before now
is nothing but pride and a promise of vacancy
Our hands are far from clean
so what manic would waste a dream on reality?
With blood shot eyes
we've been viewing this in black and white
oblivious to shades of grey
The end is near and we've but tasted our conquest
You are not the flood
you are the ocean
You are not the blood
you are the tyrant
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3. |
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My name is famine
my army is as vast and numberless as the stars
What gives me strength leads all else to ruin
It's all or nothing
Who will provide rest for the weary?
You've been deceiving yourselves
Who justifies your lust for living?
If you've been forgiven, you're only condemning yourselves
No compromise
Your heartbeat is not just a metronome for your fate
Fear me and despair. It's call or fold
Nothing is sacred
The ground that we walk on is tarnished
and stained with a sea of our linchpins
writhing and turning to sweep away the tides of war
Who will decide how justice is served?
Hot or cold?
Sing out to the endless seas of faces
turbulent and treacherous as the tempest
Thresh your oars for the garden and pick it clean
I pray you leave everything barren
for the wasteland is my domain
Waste all want all
The third seal was broken
the moment you were enticed
All bread will turn to ash in your mouth
You'll beg for the serpent to bring you his bounty
You'll crawl on your belly and find no remorse
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4. |
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5. |
Newest Dark Power
06:20
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We'll bask in light to hide in the shadows
And sink our toes into the sands of time
We've surveyed the ruin that chain links can buy
Yet reset the gears of our watches to mimic the tide
All denials of plausibility confined to a timeline of endless possibilities
We are your emptiness
We are the nonexistent
We fill all spaces in between
We are the timeless ages
Anathema has hindered progress for long enough
Break your bread, spread it 'round
Caligula paved the way for this nonsense
Make your bed, lay it down
The lich king demands from us our fealty
No head seats a crown as well as it does a pike
See yourself as your end draws near
sweep the veil from your eyes
There's an ocean in every man
As vast and deep as it is empty
Admit that you long for the end of days
The coming of oblivion
The absence of responsibility
Admit that you can't let go
Through twisted wombs and doctored shrines
we make our peace behind enemy lines
A call to arms received from lepers
to sacrifice truth in service of war
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Faith In Ruin Atlanta, Georgia
Music video for Dyslexicon OUT NOW!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PRZ94vy9Sk
Pre-Order Gaslit Dystopia releasing 12/04/20
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