1. |
I
00:48
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Where do dreams die?
In a place called fear.
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2. |
II
02:29
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Pulverized by just one glance.
Empty sightings now.
Seeking comfort in rain won't balance your growing need for others pain.
Countless marks branded by this new state of mind.
Crouching and in agony, because it's too late.
WHAT WAS IT WORTH?
Lips are cracking and drying.
Nails are splitting and the skin is blacking.
Now distressed as a fading stone for a hurried moment on an unseen throne.
Lorn and consumed by throbbing grief.
From your deeds, somber minds are torn.
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3. |
III
02:54
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Push me out and inhibit my presence.
I have left this dead creation.
As the snow falls, their skin keeps on turning paler.
Yet another proof that his plan is a failure.
You speek of the throne.
I speek of us standing in silence under falling heavens.
For my body can not bear these broken pieces of fucking glass.
Rooted in every single inch of me.
What am I searching for?
I have been wandering in the same trenches for to long.
I need it all to stop so that nothing can remain.
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4. |
IV
03:02
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To the woods they were brought.
Mark the fool.
Make their flesh tear from the heat of iron.
Headed in a single direction.
Befooled by the crumbles that is left, from all that they had.
The smell of rotting meat is seen in their eyes.
Regret is more than words, now that they're on their knees.
May the soil be the reddest of times.
Drowned in filth and blackened skies.
Seeking for something that isn't made for us to possess.
It slips through souls and eats you up.
Despondent hearts needs to be erased.
If you fall like the weak you will be replaced.
Replaced.
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A CURSED HOPE Sweden
4-piece hardcore/sludge band from Lund, Sweden.
Pascal - Vox
Jesper - Guitar
Johan - Guitar
Fabian - Drums
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