1. |
Hope-Killer
07:16
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Praise of praises,
She is here,
Hope of hopeless,
She appeared,
Take our burdens,
Let us rot,
Please relinquish us,
Let us become one.
Inch by agonizing inch,
We killed all hope,
With every breathe thats made,
We killed your hope.
We killed all hope,
We watched it choke,
Before the bloat,
We dragged it,
Just so you know.
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2. |
Fiends
05:50
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Spectre, revenant,
All watch and laugh,
Why bother,
Why pick up the pieces,
We cant take with us.
The long cold dark,
Oblivion,
You court me, then push away,
Hate or love,
You cant have both,
Forget me,
Devour me.
Forget me,
Devour me.
Force the cut,
Tear the thread,
I feel every sinew break,
Theres no dread,
Within the void,
It's safer here, so we must avoid.
Spectre, revenant
Watch and laugh at us,
They know with them,
We will soon join,
Love or hate,
Oblivion.
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3. |
Prayers To Nothing
05:18
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Reconciled, with nothing,
Holes so deep you cant get out,
Scratch and scream and no one,
Will look, will care, will mourn.
There's a hole so deep,
I can't get out,
There's a hole in me,
That's not filling up somehow.
Pray, I dont become you,
Pray, that you dont become like me too.
Pray I dont,
In a hole so deep,
Scratching and growing,
It'll break before I do,
I'll escape,
Or I'll rot,
I'll escape,
Or I'll become just like you,
No escape.
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4. |
Why The Dead Cry
06:04
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Hypnotic trance,
The dead begin to dance,
Before my eyes,
They all take flight,
But I cannot join,
I can never be rejoined again,
I feel their joy,
A joy I'll never know.
Forgotten skin,
Feels nothing,
I fight against,
This northern wind,
So conjoined,
To my grief I am chained,
I drag my shame.
If the dead feel nothing,
Then why do they cry?
If the dead feel nothing,
Then why am I here?
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5. |
Fiends PT II
03:16
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Don't touch me again,
Don't try to pretend.
A survivors heart,
And a wounded soul,
The survivors guilt,
And a empty hole,
Lashing out,
Like you cannot see me.
You dont feed the wolf,
That ate your family,
You dont feed the wolf,
You shut the fucking door,
You dont feed the wolf,
Pull the trigger or shut the fucking door.
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Goremantle Melbourne, Australia
Dragging its broken carcass into the mortal realms at its time of ending - Goremantle clacks and contorts its unknowable shambling form into an audible banshee wail crescendoing into a siren call, lamenting the potential of humanity.
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