LOADING DATA
Eigengrau
Members | |
---|---|
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, Lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Member(bands): Nethtra, Abyssal |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
---|---|---|---|---|
1 | Zebulon Kosted / Eigengrau | Split | 2013 | Show album |
2 | Verse | Full-length | 2016 | Show album |
3 | Sentence | EP | 2018 | Show album |
Zebulon Kosted / Eigengrau
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
October 31st, 2013 | Hammerkrieg Productions | HKP 025 | CD | Limited edition |
October 31st, 2013 | Hammerkrieg Productions | HKP 025 | Digital | Bandcamp |
Members | |
---|---|
Zebulon Kosted | |
Rashid Abdel Ghafur | All instruments, Vocals |
Eigengrau | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Zebulon Kosted - Missoula | 22:36 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Eigengrau - Disbereavement | 06:41 | Show lyrics |
I feel, when time itself never aches, when lightning can scream and burst and tear but time never waits, when sun always decaying and moon still waiting, treads wearily forever in way, no, not time, never time, absent time, do I tremble or awake? am I not time in essence, the very elixir itself, a groping masturbation of dimensional cohort? a trick, a tease, this whole quiet masquerade, where I took to those of winged to say - wait here and play; you told me time was caressing and I Sheba in the naught, bit I knew behind me reaper, and beautiful skull-like thought, I conceived a tangent would initiate me in the mountains holy regard but I, as time, in essence, only stand to watch and guard, I liken to a topography of lessened scissor thought and kiss between the windshield of revision mirror sought, a guess, an eclipse, a paradigm AGAIN and you mock me in this duality of over and over again, if I live than I cannot be perfect: in pentangles you dress me again. | |||
3. | Eigengrau - Whirld | 05:09 | Show lyrics |
trapped way beyond an enlightenment shrapnel crosses and tearing tresses so hard to bear ridiculous mind set of linguistics and roof top breached the hour of saturn’s affair temperant limp of snitches and re-cremations are the game satisfied switch off towards tenebrae fluorescent the cumbersome braid of bewitchment unbrocaded (need to weave) frontspiece desperate, don’t breathe and even feel elation for one swingtime lest the spell be broken. |
|||
4. | Eigengrau - Stanchion | 09:15 | Show lyrics |
There is a figure of speech on the doorstep it seems of keeping, i lament chaos boundary, first disentangle and livery weakened ascent there is a lunchbox on my re-wiring a gasp of hated send belated mimicry of desultory, termination salivates and recommence, this bitter end this drifted far too deliberate the looking glass smokes far too away and twists enter into wither, i take solace in expatriate, a suspect cunt and glimmer, redisease the eye and the ears to circumnavigate twister, a lanyard fall come dressed and small takes hindrance to the bitter, i eight this out and learn torrid bouts of syncopate, dust and in cinders. talk back at me and unfurled, she greets caution as the livid, speaks motion like invalid and denotes spacial crush of incision. this derelict of mottled ingrate, and fractured tassel emigrating thither, inner gunshell of delectation, molestation, dream scissor, you correlate a death foray, a semen sport locked spillage, without fright to re-invest or syncopation at unrest, or livery mustered inner. she radiates a flake of traits, a terminal consider, a procrastinate enviscious state, and heaviness all minnowed. Segregate this lock of time, braid it divided up elsewhere, dress delicately and mess intimately so nigh waits upon this fog. this caress. this spacial convalesce. And surreptitiously, there is physiognomy, a chancellor type, remember. give it just and celebrant take no and wear it well, align a gain with some stain, traipse earlier into ever. |
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43:41 |
Verse
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
September 21st, 2016 | Hammerkrieg Productions | HKP 030 | CD | |
September 22nd, 2016 | Hammerkrieg Productions | HKP 030 | Digital | Bandcamp |
November 21st, 2016 | Independent | Digital | Bandcamp |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, Vocals, Lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Moonroot | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Tallow | 15:29 | Show lyrics |
Misled through time, an episodic breach, coached on by mellifluous bribery and fellatio deplete. Suffocate to minor chords, the breed is tallow there, and the tincture in verbatim gives lockwood stares. Antithesis this – draw me from the upside down, lure my inverse, correlate my inbound. Fairytale speech, the impeachment coloured in keyboards and salivate salutation, a pen, a liability in dream time, an emphasis on stems. Feedback and drawback, murder with hieroglyph. | |||
2. | Centrule | 02:14 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Renouncement | 07:09 | Show lyrics |
This visceration of the scalp from the toes invokes smiles and childlike vision, where all is prompt between the eyes. To ask the escalators of teeth transmitters to slow down, and engrace a pheromone of distance – time to allow. The verse that is one splits itself between my eyes, the skull of dark matter leaving instantaneous brassiere. A copy of measure, of diverse, of bloodclot, a loudment of devourment dressed comfortable to claim, a dead flowed bedtime, fire dresser, thunder side draws, lightening mirror. A bedroom for the daylight so one does not wither. The atrocities of complacency sit hard and tender, the clothing of algebraic graph drops tired with the killer. Commencement. Renouncement. |
|||
4. | In Concerto | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
Pretty little flower skull. Ammunition content. A safeword for confusion. A date to pincer. A regret to administer. A triangle to indulge. A weak spot on the line. Cul de sac of vomit blood, I know where I’m at. Pretty little Pincers, holding a pulse of dread-toned tongues. Sharpened cross of silly taming cuts off all their moments’ cost. Vomit blood lances like danger, kick of flight. A tasty stream of cadence. A gesticular delight. Pretty little rainbows, slaughtered by the storm. I know my life is energy and vibration is my tone, but their promises of no more destruction leaves my blood smeared static smile. |
|||
5. | Orrery | 12:01 | Show lyrics |
Sometimes my eyes won’t let me see. Face planted to the license of reality. I can’t envelop tornado of imparted caresses, those imported corpses, a living administrative takes over and seeps infinite flow; a folly plus one, the salacious quantum whisper victim drowns in the sounds of hiss and break and line. At one point, there is a point of induction, a nebulous unbeloved by neutral and matched to singing watts again. Trouveilleembold, tapestry correct, an infectious lifetime of the art of cigarette. The connection convene of once crossed the game, shimmering servants agree on the serpentine domain, passions in surplus, the army’s refuse, a sepramental gesture of manufacture. Refuse. Reignite. Replay. Reannounce. Reap the blame. Glorify the flesh clad to the sky, covered in the woods of blood, hate, and touch. The dripping off tickling lies, fueling the blood inside and their instance will always be the same. So we erect and haul arms to the desert sky, and their blood fries empty, nought in the decision. I decision. | |||
41:32 |
Sentence
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
May 5th, 2018 | Hammerkrieg Productions | HKP 043 | CD | Limited edition |
May 5th, 2018 | Independent | Digital | Bandcamp | |
May 5th, 2018 | Hammerkrieg Productions | HKP 043 | Digital | Bandcamp |
Members | |
---|---|
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | I | 05:36 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
2. | II | 06:54 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
3. | III | 06:26 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
4. | Blood Milk | 05:48 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
24:44 |
Zebulon Kosted / Eigengrau
Members | |
---|---|
Zebulon Kosted | |
Rashid Abdel Ghafur | All instruments, Vocals |
Eigengrau | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Zebulon Kosted - Missoula | 22:36 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Eigengrau - Disbereavement | 06:41 | Show lyrics |
I feel, when time itself never aches, when lightning can scream and burst and tear but time never waits, when sun always decaying and moon still waiting, treads wearily forever in way, no, not time, never time, absent time, do I tremble or awake? am I not time in essence, the very elixir itself, a groping masturbation of dimensional cohort? a trick, a tease, this whole quiet masquerade, where I took to those of winged to say - wait here and play; you told me time was caressing and I Sheba in the naught, bit I knew behind me reaper, and beautiful skull-like thought, I conceived a tangent would initiate me in the mountains holy regard but I, as time, in essence, only stand to watch and guard, I liken to a topography of lessened scissor thought and kiss between the windshield of revision mirror sought, a guess, an eclipse, a paradigm AGAIN and you mock me in this duality of over and over again, if I live than I cannot be perfect: in pentangles you dress me again. | |||
3. | Eigengrau - Whirld | 05:09 | Show lyrics |
trapped way beyond an enlightenment shrapnel crosses and tearing tresses so hard to bear ridiculous mind set of linguistics and roof top breached the hour of saturn’s affair temperant limp of snitches and re-cremations are the game satisfied switch off towards tenebrae fluorescent the cumbersome braid of bewitchment unbrocaded (need to weave) frontspiece desperate, don’t breathe and even feel elation for one swingtime lest the spell be broken. |
|||
4. | Eigengrau - Stanchion | 09:15 | Show lyrics |
There is a figure of speech on the doorstep it seems of keeping, i lament chaos boundary, first disentangle and livery weakened ascent there is a lunchbox on my re-wiring a gasp of hated send belated mimicry of desultory, termination salivates and recommence, this bitter end this drifted far too deliberate the looking glass smokes far too away and twists enter into wither, i take solace in expatriate, a suspect cunt and glimmer, redisease the eye and the ears to circumnavigate twister, a lanyard fall come dressed and small takes hindrance to the bitter, i eight this out and learn torrid bouts of syncopate, dust and in cinders. talk back at me and unfurled, she greets caution as the livid, speaks motion like invalid and denotes spacial crush of incision. this derelict of mottled ingrate, and fractured tassel emigrating thither, inner gunshell of delectation, molestation, dream scissor, you correlate a death foray, a semen sport locked spillage, without fright to re-invest or syncopation at unrest, or livery mustered inner. she radiates a flake of traits, a terminal consider, a procrastinate enviscious state, and heaviness all minnowed. Segregate this lock of time, braid it divided up elsewhere, dress delicately and mess intimately so nigh waits upon this fog. this caress. this spacial convalesce. And surreptitiously, there is physiognomy, a chancellor type, remember. give it just and celebrant take no and wear it well, align a gain with some stain, traipse earlier into ever. |
|||
43:41 |
Zebulon Kosted / Eigengrau
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Zebulon Kosted | |
Rashid Abdel Ghafur | All instruments, Vocals |
Eigengrau | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Zebulon Kosted - Missoula | 22:35 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | Eigengrau - Disbereavement | 06:41 | Show lyrics |
I feel, when time itself never aches, when lightning can scream and burst and tear but time never waits, when sun always decaying and moon still waiting, treads wearily forever in way, no, not time, never time, absent time, do I tremble or awake? am I not time in essence, the very elixir itself, a groping masturbation of dimensional cohort? a trick, a tease, this whole quiet masquerade, where I took to those of winged to say - wait here and play; you told me time was caressing and I Sheba in the naught, bit I knew behind me reaper, and beautiful skull-like thought, I conceived a tangent would initiate me in the mountains holy regard but I, as time, in essence, only stand to watch and guard, I liken to a topography of lessened scissor thought and kiss between the windshield of revision mirror sought, a guess, an eclipse, a paradigm AGAIN and you mock me in this duality of over and over again, if I live than I cannot be perfect: in pentangles you dress me again. | |||
3. | Eigengrau - Whirld | 05:08 | Show lyrics |
trapped way beyond an enlightenment shrapnel crosses and tearing tresses so hard to bear ridiculous mind set of linguistics and roof top breached the hour of saturn’s affair temperant limp of snitches and re-cremations are the game satisfied switch off towards tenebrae fluorescent the cumbersome braid of bewitchment unbrocaded (need to weave) frontspiece desperate, don’t breathe and even feel elation for one swingtime lest the spell be broken. |
|||
4. | Eigengrau - Stanchion | 09:14 | Show lyrics |
There is a figure of speech on the doorstep it seems of keeping, i lament chaos boundary, first disentangle and livery weakened ascent there is a lunchbox on my re-wiring a gasp of hated send belated mimicry of desultory, termination salivates and recommence, this bitter end this drifted far too deliberate the looking glass smokes far too away and twists enter into wither, i take solace in expatriate, a suspect cunt and glimmer, redisease the eye and the ears to circumnavigate twister, a lanyard fall come dressed and small takes hindrance to the bitter, i eight this out and learn torrid bouts of syncopate, dust and in cinders. talk back at me and unfurled, she greets caution as the livid, speaks motion like invalid and denotes spacial crush of incision. this derelict of mottled ingrate, and fractured tassel emigrating thither, inner gunshell of delectation, molestation, dream scissor, you correlate a death foray, a semen sport locked spillage, without fright to re-invest or syncopation at unrest, or livery mustered inner. she radiates a flake of traits, a terminal consider, a procrastinate enviscious state, and heaviness all minnowed. Segregate this lock of time, braid it divided up elsewhere, dress delicately and mess intimately so nigh waits upon this fog. this caress. this spacial convalesce. And surreptitiously, there is physiognomy, a chancellor type, remember. give it just and celebrant take no and wear it well, align a gain with some stain, traipse earlier into ever. |
|||
43:38 |
Verse
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, Vocals, Lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Moonroot | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Tallow | 15:29 | Show lyrics |
Misled through time, an episodic breach, coached on by mellifluous bribery and fellatio deplete. Suffocate to minor chords, the breed is tallow there, and the tincture in verbatim gives lockwood stares. Antithesis this – draw me from the upside down, lure my inverse, correlate my inbound. Fairytale speech, the impeachment coloured in keyboards and salivate salutation, a pen, a liability in dream time, an emphasis on stems. Feedback and drawback, murder with hieroglyph. | |||
2. | Centrule | 02:14 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Renouncement | 07:09 | Show lyrics |
This visceration of the scalp from the toes invokes smiles and childlike vision, where all is prompt between the eyes. To ask the escalators of teeth transmitters to slow down, and engrace a pheromone of distance – time to allow. The verse that is one splits itself between my eyes, the skull of dark matter leaving instantaneous brassiere. A copy of measure, of diverse, of bloodclot, a loudment of devourment dressed comfortable to claim, a dead flowed bedtime, fire dresser, thunder side draws, lightening mirror. A bedroom for the daylight so one does not wither. The atrocities of complacency sit hard and tender, the clothing of algebraic graph drops tired with the killer. Commencement. Renouncement. |
|||
4. | In Concerto | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
Pretty little flower skull. Ammunition content. A safeword for confusion. A date to pincer. A regret to administer. A triangle to indulge. A weak spot on the line. Cul de sac of vomit blood, I know where I’m at. Pretty little Pincers, holding a pulse of dread-toned tongues. Sharpened cross of silly taming cuts off all their moments’ cost. Vomit blood lances like danger, kick of flight. A tasty stream of cadence. A gesticular delight. Pretty little rainbows, slaughtered by the storm. I know my life is energy and vibration is my tone, but their promises of no more destruction leaves my blood smeared static smile. |
|||
5. | Orrery | 12:01 | Show lyrics |
Sometimes my eyes won’t let me see. Face planted to the license of reality. I can’t envelop tornado of imparted caresses, those imported corpses, a living administrative takes over and seeps infinite flow; a folly plus one, the salacious quantum whisper victim drowns in the sounds of hiss and break and line. At one point, there is a point of induction, a nebulous unbeloved by neutral and matched to singing watts again. Trouveilleembold, tapestry correct, an infectious lifetime of the art of cigarette. The connection convene of once crossed the game, shimmering servants agree on the serpentine domain, passions in surplus, the army’s refuse, a sepramental gesture of manufacture. Refuse. Reignite. Replay. Reannounce. Reap the blame. Glorify the flesh clad to the sky, covered in the woods of blood, hate, and touch. The dripping off tickling lies, fueling the blood inside and their instance will always be the same. So we erect and haul arms to the desert sky, and their blood fries empty, nought in the decision. I decision. | |||
41:32 |
Verse
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, Vocals, Lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Moonroot | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Tallow | 15:29 | Show lyrics |
Misled through time, an episodic breach, coached on by mellifluous bribery and fellatio deplete. Suffocate to minor chords, the breed is tallow there, and the tincture in verbatim gives lockwood stares. Antithesis this – draw me from the upside down, lure my inverse, correlate my inbound. Fairytale speech, the impeachment coloured in keyboards and salivate salutation, a pen, a liability in dream time, an emphasis on stems. Feedback and drawback, murder with hieroglyph. | |||
2. | Centrule | 02:14 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Renouncement | 07:09 | Show lyrics |
This visceration of the scalp from the toes invokes smiles and childlike vision, where all is prompt between the eyes. To ask the escalators of teeth transmitters to slow down, and engrace a pheromone of distance – time to allow. The verse that is one splits itself between my eyes, the skull of dark matter leaving instantaneous brassiere. A copy of measure, of diverse, of bloodclot, a loudment of devourment dressed comfortable to claim, a dead flowed bedtime, fire dresser, thunder side draws, lightening mirror. A bedroom for the daylight so one does not wither. The atrocities of complacency sit hard and tender, the clothing of algebraic graph drops tired with the killer. Commencement. Renouncement. |
|||
4. | In Concerto | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
Pretty little flower skull. Ammunition content. A safeword for confusion. A date to pincer. A regret to administer. A triangle to indulge. A weak spot on the line. Cul de sac of vomit blood, I know where I’m at. Pretty little Pincers, holding a pulse of dread-toned tongues. Sharpened cross of silly taming cuts off all their moments’ cost. Vomit blood lances like danger, kick of flight. A tasty stream of cadence. A gesticular delight. Pretty little rainbows, slaughtered by the storm. I know my life is energy and vibration is my tone, but their promises of no more destruction leaves my blood smeared static smile. |
|||
5. | Orrery | 12:01 | Show lyrics |
Sometimes my eyes won’t let me see. Face planted to the license of reality. I can’t envelop tornado of imparted caresses, those imported corpses, a living administrative takes over and seeps infinite flow; a folly plus one, the salacious quantum whisper victim drowns in the sounds of hiss and break and line. At one point, there is a point of induction, a nebulous unbeloved by neutral and matched to singing watts again. Trouveilleembold, tapestry correct, an infectious lifetime of the art of cigarette. The connection convene of once crossed the game, shimmering servants agree on the serpentine domain, passions in surplus, the army’s refuse, a sepramental gesture of manufacture. Refuse. Reignite. Replay. Reannounce. Reap the blame. Glorify the flesh clad to the sky, covered in the woods of blood, hate, and touch. The dripping off tickling lies, fueling the blood inside and their instance will always be the same. So we erect and haul arms to the desert sky, and their blood fries empty, nought in the decision. I decision. | |||
41:32 |
Verse
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, Vocals, Lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Moonroot | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Tallow | 15:29 | Show lyrics |
Misled through time, an episodic breach, coached on by mellifluous bribery and fellatio deplete. Suffocate to minor chords, the breed is tallow there, and the tincture in verbatim gives lockwood stares. Antithesis this – draw me from the upside down, lure my inverse, correlate my inbound. Fairytale speech, the impeachment coloured in keyboards and salivate salutation, a pen, a liability in dream time, an emphasis on stems. Feedback and drawback, murder with hieroglyph. | |||
2. | Centrule | 02:14 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
3. | Renouncement | 07:09 | Show lyrics |
This visceration of the scalp from the toes invokes smiles and childlike vision, where all is prompt between the eyes. To ask the escalators of teeth transmitters to slow down, and engrace a pheromone of distance – time to allow. The verse that is one splits itself between my eyes, the skull of dark matter leaving instantaneous brassiere. A copy of measure, of diverse, of bloodclot, a loudment of devourment dressed comfortable to claim, a dead flowed bedtime, fire dresser, thunder side draws, lightening mirror. A bedroom for the daylight so one does not wither. The atrocities of complacency sit hard and tender, the clothing of algebraic graph drops tired with the killer. Commencement. Renouncement. |
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4. | In Concerto | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
Pretty little flower skull. Ammunition content. A safeword for confusion. A date to pincer. A regret to administer. A triangle to indulge. A weak spot on the line. Cul de sac of vomit blood, I know where I’m at. Pretty little Pincers, holding a pulse of dread-toned tongues. Sharpened cross of silly taming cuts off all their moments’ cost. Vomit blood lances like danger, kick of flight. A tasty stream of cadence. A gesticular delight. Pretty little rainbows, slaughtered by the storm. I know my life is energy and vibration is my tone, but their promises of no more destruction leaves my blood smeared static smile. |
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5. | Orrery | 12:01 | Show lyrics |
Sometimes my eyes won’t let me see. Face planted to the license of reality. I can’t envelop tornado of imparted caresses, those imported corpses, a living administrative takes over and seeps infinite flow; a folly plus one, the salacious quantum whisper victim drowns in the sounds of hiss and break and line. At one point, there is a point of induction, a nebulous unbeloved by neutral and matched to singing watts again. Trouveilleembold, tapestry correct, an infectious lifetime of the art of cigarette. The connection convene of once crossed the game, shimmering servants agree on the serpentine domain, passions in surplus, the army’s refuse, a sepramental gesture of manufacture. Refuse. Reignite. Replay. Reannounce. Reap the blame. Glorify the flesh clad to the sky, covered in the woods of blood, hate, and touch. The dripping off tickling lies, fueling the blood inside and their instance will always be the same. So we erect and haul arms to the desert sky, and their blood fries empty, nought in the decision. I decision. | |||
41:32 |
Sentence
Members | |
---|---|
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
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1. | I | 05:36 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
2. | II | 06:54 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
3. | III | 06:26 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
4. | Blood Milk | 05:48 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
24:44 |
Sentence
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Sentence (part I) | 05:36 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
2. | Sentence (part II) | 06:54 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
3. | Sentence (part III) | 06:26 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
4. | Blood Milk | 05:48 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
24:44 |
Sentence
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Ariadne Azazel | Instrumentation, lyrics |
Skolopendra | Instrumentation, Vocals |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | I | 05:36 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
2. | II | 06:54 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
3. | III | 06:26 | Show lyrics |
and this sound, this sound, this plane of the pure thought, the one wrenched with overturned gateways, it’s mirror eyes glaring until one can only rain, and drip along until the night utters forth, while you stole it all before; and the thought that this was just a pendant, a gift, a lock for the insane as the journey penetrates the physique with much that doesn’t exist, as the essence gropes to know the mind, turning corners before their construction, so one can scission these like a wheel, these planes and sights and never-was lifting the plight of the fall, as they watch, as they watch and remember she, and the talisman pillar of a text that one could live in; climbing words like stars around a dirty, clear background stark, descending and entwining amidst the lines thick with imagery myriad, falling down through paragraphs when the page turns itself, we will end, we will end, as the map turns back into the beginning, but you’d thought you’d seen this all before, this sound, this sound, as the desperate know the realms, mindfuck and whispering with the canticle lost and red, and as you dream, as you dream, kiss the hate with fingernails wrapped in branches of the flight, numbers and figments slippery like shears, knifing away the mirage infinite as if with some motion of belonging, the blood dressed looking glass seeing nothing but the ocean, with the looking sliding past, the glass drifts more into the blood, into eyes, into blood, into she, without blood, without fright, without end, without blood, as the past becomes what you never knew before, the moment telling tales so the memory sees anew, and the dust invokes vacancy, a dionysian invitation before the night comes riding horns and feathers and things left best unsaid, the prayer alive with forefingers and an upside down crucifix, penetrating a void where lies are truth and truth is unseen, watching in your sleep for the canopy to burst and the room to enclose, because there is no answer and it’s cold where fires are lit and this sound, this sound, a requiem regret for that which you thought could not die, and they shimmer, and they whisper, and that blood – letting in the reflection sees you are what you fear, what you fear, the existing, what you fear, the calling, what you reap, the séance prying of the absolute nothing, a fool reaper wandering in the sand, as that sound prevents sleep, and you knew you’d seen it all before. | |||
4. | Blood Milk | 05:48 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
24:44 |
Band ascii art
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