Blood was shed colder in my dreams. Roaming streams shone and lit your eyes by dead light. Then came distended, shambling, bloated whores. Forked by tongue and steel, rode by carrion at night.
Reaving tide, the black hearts march in step.
Dead inside, the black hearts came and swallow all that’s left.
Old machines, proud, obscene, crowing from their nests. Bellowed now from fattened mouths, they scream to put me to my death.
Crown the sow, the black hearts marching in.
Deadened mind they come, the black hearts deserve the rest.
Their domain, tilled, broken. Hear their thoughts, pearls of shame.
The black hearts engage.
This album sounds like it was recorded inside of a dream. Soothing melodies, distant vocals and amazing beats - Endlhëtonëg is simply something else botwin336
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