As the snow slowly falls from the sky
The light icy breeze prevents iced up flakes' way to the ground.
Patiently, the raging ocean awakes its greedy arms
To swallow its next beverage.
Then I contemplated passed great times.
I pictured memories on a material wind.
Not waiting for anything eternal.
I went on with my fall, seeking senses to this darkness.
Formerly born from chaos, bright, firm and perfect,
But long is the way to crystallize,
I began my history, weak-minded.
Passing time wisdom, I escaped to an unclear future,
More and more disastrous and solitary.
Shame, rage and despair.
Sea spray caressed my face while I was admiring the horizon,
Aging shaping by floating in time,
As a misty dream sneakily comes at bedtime.
The surface and I will surely melt together.
As I slowly melt, I slowly age.
As long as I was falling, living had a sense.
There, those for whom no light is the only world now
Were waiting for the next deceived one,
To form with it a vast expanse of dismal quietness.
Alone. Quietly tired by this deceitful sham.
Crash to the surface.
Sink into the abyss.
Roam forever and wherever, into the chaos of deep mounts;
Maybe a nexttrickery?
I know now the consistency of the soul, unable to alert abandoned ones.
Horrified by the monstrosity of the end,
I rest now, finally stirred by scum floods.
supported by 9 fans who also own “Above the surface”
The Idea of North sounds like the nightmare of everyone's death doom vision into hell. Kick back and feel the pressure of your ears being crushed. Absolutely fantastic album!! Darknight
supported by 9 fans who also own “Above the surface”
On ne frappe pas un homme à terre : c'est ce que dit la règle mais NONE a déjà prouvé qu'il ne les suivait pas et si son album éponyme retirait toute perspective de béatitude spirituelle, Life has gone on long enough, son deuxième opus, nous interdit l'accès au bonheur terrestre. La vie n'a aucune substance et la production plus distante le confirme. Le DSBM s'empare de textures sonores blues, mettant en relief une dépression urbaine. Les cris partent en fumées : ne restent que les pleurs... Jordan Vauvert
Screamo, post-rock, and a little black metal meld together for Virginia quartet Infant Island's signature immersive and melancholy sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 28, 2020