1. |
Andúril
10:40
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Flame of the west.
I am remade,
Slaves of dark,
Shall flee before my blade.
Yes! I know now whence I came.
Burning, hungry as a flame.
All that I touch turns to light,
As I flare bright, fuelled by mind.
Ash is all I leave behind.
O yes, I’m a flame alright.*
Forging at the furnace edge,
Steel for which the ancients bled.
Flame of the west.
I arrive, and scorching heaven’s gate
I breathe, and scream and cast about
For fuel, I cannot but consume
A cursed incendiary leech,
Born to scald and thusly preach.
Mourning those on which I feast.
Celestial clockwork moves unseen,
Betwixt the anvil and the steel.
Into a void all icy stark.
Ripping hammer, spitting spark.
Tempered was my beaten heart,
Now weary since I did depart.
Flame of the west.
I am remade,
Slaves of dark,
Shall flee before my blade.
In agony, a fated pyre convulsed
Kindled with a broken writ.
A plague to all that feed my wick,
Lay with me and be subsumed.
Cremate, sublimate, entomb
In ecstasy and grief I plume.
Flame of the west.
I am remade,
Slaves of darkness,
flee before my blade.
I am the scourge,
Bringer of darkness.
For your blood I ceaselessly thirst.
Andúril
Presennol a thragwyddol,
Mudiant a llonyddwch.
Dw i’n yma, arwr a dihiryn.
Bydd y boen yn ailadrodd,
Bydd y llawenydd yn ailadrodd.
Wele y dyn, bendigedig a melltigedig.
*Lines 1 to 6 loosely paraphrased from the poem “Ecce Homo” by Frederick Nietzsche (‘Joke, Cunning and Revenge’: Prelude in German Rhymes, No. 62, The Gay Science)
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2. |
Hostis Humani Generis
09:47
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My hate for you doth rot my soul,
I seek a worthier enemy.
You are not fit to be my foe,
But still your deeds disturb my wandering.
I banish weakness from my mind,
Begging me to pity’s feign.
As your mouldering banner and your horde,
Refuses to be swept away.
Hostis Humani Generis
Misdirected toxic fool,
Some underdogs deserve their fate.
No-one needs such sham protection,
From a barbarian inside the gates.
Homo Sacer, Ill fight with none but thee.
So much wasted breath,
Indefensible debated screed.
Ceasing ever outward progress,
To die in churned up bloody fields.
Any excuse to feel hate’s grip.
The festering egos of the bought and sold.
Lemmings driven before your lords,
Your outrage flows as slick as gold.
Again, you return to grind your axe,
Seeking enemies to slay.
War and greed, the shackles at our feet.
The arrows of the smallest minds,
Strike only the unique or marginalised.
O but how the world could be,
If the archers could perceive the crime.
Context now a whispered hush,
Perspective drowned in grasping hands.
We’d be casting out for stars,
If not for your self-entitled excess mass.
Instead, you nestle at the feet,
Of a master you can’t please.
A starving hound gnaws at it’s lead,
Hostis humani generis,
Hastening our fall.
Hostis humani generis,
Enemy of all.
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3. |
Cloud Dweller
08:42
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“Silence is the sacred shroud,
Solitude a weary friend.”
So say the souls born of the clouds,
Where all stories start and end;
Riven from the light,
Stricken blind,
Wrought into eternal night
How the welkin rang out with their anguished cries;
“What given right have you to judge me thusly?
Authority of mob and mass.
Save your stones, you couldn’t sink or crush me,
Obligation drags me down at last”
All in rags and torn upon the stones,
Cursed to roam the earth alone.
Fallen lambs to feed the meek,
Wretched hunger never sleeps.
Bound in mortal flesh,
Leaden chains,
Bleeding at the gates.
Innocents lured down from the peaks,
A grieving sky can only weep.
“Forgive me while I find the words,
I speak not in my mother tongue.
Hear me, hear my words,
What duty calls me from my work,
To toil here among the throng?
Tell me, what have I done.”
Another cloud dweller falls,
The mother mountain mourns.
Within the downcast roils an incandescent wrath;
“Deep into the darkest hive you drug me,
To the twisting reeking knot of life, you came whence.
I long at night to rise above the cloud sea,
I will dream not in your words but silence”
Across a blackened land,
Enjoining shackled hands.
“We souls born on the mountain,
Cursed by another’s sin.
Silence our given language,
Solitude our dearest kin.”
To bear the weight of ages,
Rise above the clinging mist.
Climb from this gaping valley,
Into light and truth and bliss.
“Our names were never yours to give,
Your words are only marks of ash.
Curses on a crumbling page,
Destined for a grave of dust.
This city is a feast for worms,
Set to burn on blackened pyre.
To the mountain we return,
Leaving the tyrants to their fated end in fire”
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4. |
Heliac
03:09
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When the sun shines brightest
The shadow darkens
All of a being’s hate and grief
Cast into such sharp relief
Nauseating contrast
External world of green and gold
Searing light and vain, resplendent love
Mocks the adamantine void within
All the blacker when viewed through dazzled eyes
Hands of light lain upon the stricken
Mean to heal by faith or hubris
Cannot cast this darkness from the soul
Their warmth can only keen the rot
Pale bodies bare as night peels back
Clinging to this baking rock
Blistering meat rotates in astral sublimation
Incinerating slowly in the solar wind
Creator and destroyer
Seed and scourge of life
Of harmony and piercing strife
All will burn
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5. |
Daffodil
11:04
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Tear me from pure pursuits,
Name the spaces whence unnamed.
Judge me with elaborate construct,
Choking strata of the knaves.
Hide away the dawn,
Leave a frost where once was flame,
Entropic in the dark, eternal freeze.
Does the ash of the fire remember the flame?
Does the dust of the field ache for the rain?
When the glory is done, what becomes of the ghosts,
The crumbling castles, the empty moats?
A march to extinction that we can’t avoid.
Blooms, white and golden, fragile egos, wilting in the void.
Give me a reason that isn’t just blindness,
Primitive divination and confirmation bias.
Show me an answer, don’t prove the rule,
Sweet refutation in ignorant bliss.
I’ll be Fortune’s fool.
In the agony of logic, o’er the illusion,
Our inherent nature, forced conclusions.
Thrusting of existence on the unborn lamb,
What gives us the right to deal such a hand?
A march to extinction that we can’t avoid.
Blooms, white and golden, fragile egos, wilting in the void.
Give me a reason that isn’t just blindness,
Primitive divination and confirmation bias.
Show me an answer, don’t prove the rule,
Sweet refutation in ignorant bliss.
I’ll be Fortune’s fool.
Show me an answer that isn’t just ego,
The vanity of sentience, the face in the mirror.
Give me a reason, to scry the pool,
Reflect only torment, the body melts away.
Give me a reason.
Give me a reason, and I’ll be reasonable.
Show me an answer, and I’ll answer to it.
All around me innumerable forms,
Bound in heavy leaden chains.
I’ll be fortune’s fool.
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6. |
By Means of Moonlight
06:00
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A mind awakes in a frozen indifferent world,
Out in the blackness, eternal, a predator stirs,
The setting for the hunt.
For aeons I did wait,
Thirsting in the void,
Now you’re in my sights,
Descending swift as night,
Thirsting in the void
Hiding from the light
I trust the frost of time
The dying of the fire
I am the serpent that into to the garden has come
All things most holy and precious will rot to my touch
The setting for the hunt.
I’ll see you in your dreams,
I’m running in your veins,
You’ll never be the same,
You’ll never see my face.
Screaming at the sky
You cannot lift the veil,
You can only cross but once
Cursing your creator, in the dust
I’ll be waiting in the night wind to seek you out.
I prowl the path forbidden,
I sow the doubt
So, cower in the lamplight, while you can.
I’ll make a slave each wakeful man,
I’m the burden all must bear,
Night invites to death.
Turn your head to glimpse me and I’ll leave my chill in your heart.
Nothing but my awful callous laughter braying in the dark.
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These Hands Melt Italy
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭 is a label based in Rome, founded in early 2023 to release dark emotional music.
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