1. |
Exposition
03:39
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Hold me down weight me down again tear me open.
Bend my back again.
Let me feed this instinct in me.
My thoughts are in two modes:
A figure of faith or an eternal fiend nest in the hell inside my dreams.
"Defy Him or deliver me".
Everyday we constantly battle.
The church feels more like a prison and my brother feels more like a stranger.
Praying gives me nothing.
My body is sick, my body is sick.
I leave this place to find my fix,
the heavy rain hitting my face.
This urge is growing.
Shelter and a place to hide is all that I can see.
I slip through the heavy wooden door,
I find my self at a bar with no company.
"Bring me what I need".
A drink to calm this zealous leech.
The clock hand strikes twelve.
I'm torn open.
The barman points to the wooden door,
The glass I hold, slips to the floor.
Drunken words, a fight breaks out.
April 4th: His blood stains the ground.
I awake.
His glazed eyes stare back at me.
Oh my god, forgive me for what I have done.
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2. |
Act I
01:14
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3. |
12_04
03:40
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"Brother I am not clean,
my hands are bloody "
April the 4th: The hunt starts.
Growing and moulding in side my mind,
scratching and gnawing at my weak walls.
God was my leader, I am the sinner
"Brother I am not clean,
my hands are bloody"
"Father, O Father, mend my mind."
"Father, O Father, mend my red mind."
2 days past: The blood flows.
My red hands sink into his skin.
This madness, my guide through the dark,
wherever it leads i'm back at the start.
"Father, my father I am the darkness, these bodies keep on growing
mend these tools of mine"
Fix my sight and make me whole again tonight
For I am weak and too humble to speak
Shape my skin, paint my bones
Make me whole again
The hands of God
The eyes of Man
The shape of God
The mind of Man
April 12th
"Brother O Brother, rest forever."
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4. |
Act II
01:16
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5. |
Scene I - Griever
05:23
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The same thing I did everyday,
Came home from work,
Made dinner for my son and I and then spoke about his day
A mother's always proud of her son,
Stays with him,
Not like his father who walked out on us
But everything changed when I saw the officer at my door
His words killed me,
When he told me you wouldn't be around anymore
I gripped at his feet, he looked at me
"Your son is dead"
He won't be around anymore
Death can be an honest thing,
Makes you realise what you've lost and what you had
His body leaves my porch, I lay alone.
"Why won't you stay with me?"
A broken mother, a murdered son
Monday the 4th: A day to remember.
Who would scar at his skin?
Who would pierce at his flesh?
You would take his life away
Who would scar his skin
Who would pierce his flesh
Who would
You would
Who would scar his skin
Who would mark his flesh
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6. |
Scene II - Catharsis
05:11
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The sun covered by grey (since that day)
The 4th of the 4th month, that day he died.
You lay in the cold, the cold ground.
Soil is your bed, it keeps you bound.
10 days past, I am insane.
I walk these streets where you once were.
These roads made out of your skin.
My son, where have you been?
Where have you gone?
I approach your old doors, your old work is now your coffin
A figure lingeres at your bar, a wreck of a man
Fear fills the room
Is he the one?
"Did you take my son"
You lay in the cold, the cold ground.
Soil is your bed, it keeps you bound.
The earth's flesh is now his home
His home
The crimes I committed, make me no man.
Where did my faith go?
My hands feel like weapons of war,
But used against the good and the innocent.
My brother, her son, you see I thought they were nothing but now are no more,
Now are no more.
Now are no more .
I grip the piece,
Thoughts are passing
The tension is filling the room
He can feel it, I can feel it.
I aim, his face is motionless, just like my body, just like my son.
Do I shoot?
Or will I be the same as him?
A cold killer
A cold man
Ending lives with red hands of loved ones.
April 14th
Death is near.
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Vera Grace Oxford, UK
Atmospheric Post-Hardcore / Metalcore from Oxfordshire, UK.
"A sound so vast and deep you could
drown in it" - Metal Hammer.
"Though provoking, evocative, and truly majestic" - Punktastic.
"A rage fuelled listen" - Rocksound.
... more
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