1. |
Mammon
04:48
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My old acquaintance
I feel you linger here
Once more that sound, dripping
Scented oils from every little blossom
Come handsome devil
From out the lantern bright
I know you have arrived
To gather all these lonely little choirs
Oh dear beloved Lord
Our praise and love for Mammon
We bend down low for Mammon
His milk is glorious purpose
Heir of the golden throne
Suck and swallow
Our greatest pleasures
By way of gratitude
You will the mind divided?
Allure! But one persona
This ain’t no gospel
This is the ancient modus
One mass to calm the quaking
Scented oils from every fickle habit
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2. |
Usurper
02:42
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Usurper
You grieve the mending labor
Crooked finger swaying
Laments, hollow and bountiful
Loud enough to shatter bones
Usurper
You pitiful looking creature
Of spite and wicked malaise
Marvel at the gallows tall
Upon the dreams of purest mythos
Usurper
See these lowly embers?
Oh for goodness sake
Lend your fucking breath
Yeah, weave those trembling hands together
Usurper
We will come to behold
New bonds beyond
Blood, tongue and nation
All circles measured
Crimson, vicious triumph
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3. |
Pneuma
09:45
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I’ve been listening for the breath
Bound by the other
Harder and faster
Composed and quite condescending
I’ve been frail
Thoroughly deceived
Held far from that which I favor
A swift kick in the teeth
Sinking, deeper, deeper below
This body I am not
I am the crucible
What of all these sentinel brutes
With eyes on the quiet reckoning?
I’ve been trying to consolidate
This apparatus
With the subtle and soft
Inherent while often forsaken
Yeah, I’ve been grave
In my work
With the established order, aligned
Taught to be patient
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4. |
Mouth & Toil
05:01
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Mouth, to deliver the intentions
Of those who mind the sway of tongue
Mouth, as a mother in weight and height
Good will fatigue, habit and custom
Prone, succulence
Have mercy
Prone, succulence
Loud and vulgar
Clear, how the will of devotion
Fixed cradle, falls to sleep with many bold
Clear, as the vast consecration
We will be taught some appropriate manners
Strange, all the praise and the marvel
For all that is, and all the ever since
Strange, how this breath of mythos
Does not cling to every dutiful lung
Foul, is the spiteful haunting
To situate the meek and the lowly, mute
Foul, is the mark of naiveté
When words are carried from mouth to toil
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5. |
Funeral Party
03:43
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Who do you think you are?
Is this the rational man?
Sinking teeth into
This funeral party
Once a feast of great meditation
Held without concern
To what is the ever turning
Who do you think you are?
Is this the enlightened man?
Pride in sober reason
Hail the obvious sovereign!
Ever so vigil and ever so hell-bent
On emancipation
Oh dear, what a taming gesture
Who do you think you are?
Is this the reasonable man?
Molding clay profane
to build one glorious altar
Here at this spot
Where holy will have no tongue
Thus far from all will come to confess here
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6. |
Siri von Essen
10:15
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These here are some wretched hours
Of various confrontations
Between my weakened heart and troublesome creations
Knee-deep in dirt
In this ragged old dress
You should know I was once magnificent
Curse that little man of mine
Yeah curse his brilliant flame
The shadows he cast
Will be his own sentence
The shadows he cast
Will be his own god damned sentence
The great admirable writer
His ever lashing words
Come pulling me down
Pulling me under
Son, tell them I’m no little child
Tell them I’m no little girl
I’m a woman
I’m a woman of my own art
Few of us know the name Siri von Essen
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Isobel & November Sweden
Isobel & November from Gävle, Sweden, began as a solo project in the late 90s, where singer/writer Per-Erik Söderberg played
the songs on his hollow, heavily tuned down Gretsch.
With the help of joining members, the band soon began experimenting with sound and texture, which made Isobel the droning, pounding, Kraut and Psych-quartet it is today.
... more
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