Rolling hills covered in dry wheat,
missed by the harvest,
dance in the whispering breeze.
The rogue trees that dot the land,
are surrounded by walls built from stone and earth.
At the top of every hill blossoms roaring bomb fires,
sending plumes of black and gray smoke that meld,
across the cloudless blue sky.
I stand among the silent wheat weeping.
At the knowledge that we,
are filled with the monsters that started the fires,
and the cowards that will,
let it burn us into,
oblivion!
Let my tears,
wash away the flames.
Allow this flood,
to break down these walls!
Let my tears,
wash away the flames.
Allow this flood,
to break down these walls!
Blackened hardcore with the sheer heady power of stadium crust and the glacial melodies of second-wave black metal. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 10, 2023