1. |
Left to the Cursed Winds
04:55
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'Twas he bid her bear the fruit of womb
So that it could be pitted, dried, pierced, strung up
Somberly martyred and exposed
Left to the cursed, howling winds
The sick light from the sun is thirty thousand words
All of them lies and truth, scared in to flesh
Cancerously, the verse will grow
Into the spine, splitting the soul
What fierce will he must have to bend you at the knee
Before the wolves with their gold crosses, cities, wine
You confess, prostrate, and degrade yourself
Echoes of words your fathers never spoke
Will move you to piety, as lapsed as you may be
Wisps of the past reign
The screaming flock, tucked away, will go quiet
Soon but not forever. The embers in the mind will grow hot
Burning more fiercely than the fires of hell
Lucifer offers comfort while the father stands still
But all’re bound to bite and suckle at the bone
promised there is always marrow to be had
But when the food has gone sour, cold and black
The crucifix above the altar is silent
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2. |
Yolk
04:51
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Once the crown, cracked by the splintered wood, spilled its yolk
Yellow fountains spouting from the tips of thorns
Imagined in fits of furious arrogance and pain
Eyes sought to observe themselves, to cave and turn in
But they’re doomed to simply split in their efforts
spewing and spurting and bleeding their souls
Laying their rich yolk on the cheeks bellow
Bleeding thorns, imagined in furious fits of arrogance
Self-righteousness and greed
Blind, groping at flat tile
the pitiable child
A fly in the wax of an odious candle, so easily snuffed, wished away
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3. |
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A ring wraps around the earth
A halo upon the head of creation
Flakes of skin free themselves, tumbling down his loose weak shoulders
like snow
Cold iron brushes his skin
Stinging his flesh like fire
His neck is sore with the weight of a cage
Trapping his mind in void
Bless these thoughts of fountains
Wet marble slick with sun
Blades of grass part, bowing before the breeze
Warm, with the threat of frost
All these visions are portals to a delusion
He’s the observer to the obliteration of all
All the stars and the stones in the sky
Birthed from the collective mind’s eye
Fate has doomed all to die
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WitchUrn Madison, Wisconsin
Chicano-made black metal from the hopeless plains of the midwest.
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