1. |
Some Things Never Change
02:49
|
|||
|
what was learned? time stands still. still fire burns. still earth bleeds. still they pray. it stays the same. same mistakes. oversight. same mistakes. history is written in sand. blurred by trembling hands. no one remembers the fire. only the ash it left behind. two words carved in stone. never again. this will never end. we counted stones. still we threw them. and still we built the pyres. we burn and call it progress. we fall and call it fate.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
Falling faster. walls collapse around me. I have failed you. weight carried, not enough. Nothing has prepared me for this. Nothing will prepare them for me. Breaking deeper. Shards left in my skin. I have lost you. Truth buried, left to rot. Nothing has prepared me for this. Nothing will prepare them for me. All is gone. Left to dust. I reach my hand out to nothing. failure breaks me. I will let you down. Consumed with grief. I'll let you down. I will fail.
|
||||
3. |
Right Side of History
01:09
|
|||
|
We burn what they built. We've seen this before. Spines bend, splinter, break. Silence swallows them whole. Where will you be when the smoke clears. Trace the scars. When the smoke starts to clear. We'll find what's left. We won't soon forget. And we will rebuild.
|
||||
4. |
My Body Is a Weapon
03:26
|
|||
|
Change the way I'm shaped. Erase my identity. Replace with one less familiar. Remove the meat from bone. Bend sinew into steel. Fracture bone to function. These hands are not mine. They are yours. They are theirs. Change the way I'm shaped. Every breath cut shorter. Violence only in the name of love. I am unrecognizable now. A vessel for your safety. An edge honed sharper with every ounce of fear. Change the way I'm shaped. My body is a weapon.
|
||||
5. |
Rise and Fall
02:34
|
|||
|
Blood is a contract written in a dead language. I've seen empires fall underneath their own weight. Rise and fall. Spit out their names. If we owe you love, then you owe us care. Their house is built on stolen ground. Their walls are held up by guilt. What rises can fall. What falls can be buried. Rise. Fall
|
||||
6. |
What God Meant By Mercy
01:51
|
|||
|
The air folds in on itself. heavy with names cut from roots. A shape descends. Many hands, one hunger. Dragging light from the soil. What's a border but a knife's path? Steel veins press into earth teaching new language. with no mercy. with no choice. What's a border but a knife's path? Fires bloom where voices should. Sky thick with unsaid prayers. They mistake silence for surrender. The river does not move for them. the wind does not carry their gospel. The ground opens up to take them in.
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
I would sharpen my teeth on the bones of the world just to keep you safe. I would tear the stars from the sky just to weave you a softer morning. Our hands are made of fire. So let them reach, let them touch, let them burn. If love is a weapon, then I'll be the blade.
|
||||
8. |
Devil
01:04
|
|||
|
Sorrow. The weight crushes me. I'm left gasping. It's as if the air has been ripped straight from my body. I am crying out but no words pass from these lips. I have been to this place more than I'd like to admit. I used to beg for sleep. Now my bed is just the place where I lay my body.
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
Not a single word was spoken as the earth split wide open.
|
||||
10. |
Salt and Stone
03:23
|
|||
|
The sky swallows itself. a mouth of dust, of names torn from the throat. There was once a door here. It led to a room. It led to a prayer. Half whispered, half sunk beneath the weight of the machines. Fingers trace the shape of home. But the air is not enough. Enough to hold a mother's call or the weight of a father's hand pressed to the earth like roots. They map the land with fire. but fire doesn't remember. fire doesn't carry the songs. It only devours them. Still, the sea knows. Still the stones know. The hills will not move for them. Wind doesn't answer to new names. They are not ghosts. They are salt and stone.
|
||||
If you like Serrate, you may also like:
supported by 10 fans who also own “Even the Wind Sounds Dead”
Closet Witch embodies a fuzz-rattled and blackened riffage, a clanging and splashing kit abuse, and a shrill and shrieking throat sacrifice that builds into a wall of bleeding noise. Not for the faint of heart.
go to albumsupported by 8 fans who also own “Even the Wind Sounds Dead”
This album feels like being drug down to hell and learning to make peace with it. Attempting to find the quiet and serene moments in the midst of a dark dark place. This album is beautiful, and every time I listen to it, I find a new small detail that makes me admire it even more.
go to album
Derramar | Querer | Borrar
by MASSA NERA
Massa Nera makes '00s-style screamo that strikes a balance between delicate intricacy and heavy passion.
go to album
Children Of The Moon
by State Faults
Volatile screamo with razor-sharp fangs on this blistering new LP from State Faults.
go to albumToronto band Respire deliver a post-hardcore tour de force on the largest scale possible, orchestrally rich and incessantly uncompromising.
go to albumsupported by 8 fans who also own “Even the Wind Sounds Dead”
sludgy droning aura its giving back from the dead
go to album