Calming punctures against the withered flesh
We refrain from their bitter tongues
Courting the mortis of their scorn
The words I crave as I lose control
Place the clotted mass within
Caress my broken bones
Cross your palms, drive the nail deep
Let my presence flow like blood
As I scent the corpse within
Deafening my ears with deceit
Scour
Cling to me
Tear the flesh away
I’m now your shallow grave
Drive the needle into my eye
Crush the ribs that surround my lungs
Rip the scalp clean from my skull
Drain my blood into the ground
The light fades as my truth has come
The call has been made
The herd is dead
Now we feed the rats
Let them bloat
Behold the chord
Giver of the life decomposed with filth
Retreat within my hate
Bind me to my void
Infect the moral artery
supported by 33 fans who also own “The Deafening Call”
This album is a textbook example of how production assists with the music and overall aesthetic. It is dirty, grimy and cavernous, some of the most disgusting music I have ever heard in my life. Jacob Ballance
supported by 24 fans who also own “The Deafening Call”
What a monster of an album - the dense, vicious nature tears your chest open and devours your insides. Sick fuckin’ riffs - always a big fan of this one since release. MetalJazzDnB