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Stagnant strangers romance on crowded pathways below admiring the stage's glistening coat. The reflection on the sill giving the cheekbones their due. Praising the worth of porcelain skin. My shades of blonde dancing in the high sun. I gave labor to the grief. To the squinting spectator who drank in the despair as I tiptoed off the plane of existence and drifted listlessly through the velvet blackness of oblivion. I am what I always was. Gleaming and empty.
supported by 108 fans who also own “From the Kettle Onto the Coil”
this album is maybe best described as a knive that cuts up the skin and leaves old wounds. It almost haunts me ,like a ghost from the past, its always there. In the cold mornings and sleeples nights. A pure work of art . Bedankt oathbreaker b x
supported by 93 fans who also own “From the Kettle Onto the Coil”
What can I say that hasn't been already? An absolute mammoth of an album that's simultaneously forlorn and reassuring. It's certainly not for the faint of heart, but it's one of the most rewarding listens I've had the pleasure of experiencing. zirtonic