1. |
The Song of Oblivion
09:49
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The hazy way to proceed
Where we'll find the shame and blame
Remains for us... only oblivion and renounce
There's no pleasure in that choice
Just pain, fear and servitude.
The first light breaks this cycle
Putting dispair back into the shadows
There's no cure where sorrow lives
You've become your obscurest dreams.
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2. |
Entropy
10:21
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I feel desintegrating
Just atoms and particles
Collapsing at the moment
Undoing from nothing
Breaking the force around
Irreversible state.
(We're) Just genetic dust of dusk
Awaiting for brusk burst.
Vacuum or cold air
Replacing this living organism
Disintegration ongoing
Shift me to the black hole
Everything here is personal
But nothing is particular.
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3. |
The Cold Rain on My Face
07:56
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In these streets
That now I'm walking lost
There's nothing I can do
To release me... to hide that it hurts
This nightmare became alive
Forgive you... oh, forgive me?
There is nothing I can do.
The cold rain on this warm day
Is like fingers of death touching my face
Ain't nowhere to run
There's no way out from here
Just a silent scream calling my name
I miss you... oh, I miss me
Her toxic love erodes my all.
Melting veins, cutting flesh, destroying everything.
Like a cannon of sorrow
Shooting against your fortress
I bring my darkness into your soul.
The cold froze her heart
Her love killed me.
And at every corner
Die a little more of me
Another liberating chemical illusion
Another wall to shoot
Another cry of pleasure
A little less of me
A little more than you.
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4. |
Darkness of Dawn
09:13
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This world is no mercy place
Your hope is an empty face
Death is our solace
Living in the darkness of dawn.
Whispering... in the dark.
Chained in a confused mind
Dismembered, in agony, cry
There's no chance to surrender
Dark hatred is our defender
Whispering... in the dark.
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5. |
Eterno Retorno
10:46
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Pra quê fugir? Pra quê ficar?
Se a ampulheta irá girar
Na mesma ordem e ocasião
A nossa eterna condição.
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Songs of Oblivion Araraquara, Brazil
Inserted in a chaotic everyday seek the afflictions of the human soul, in his individualism, the poetic richness expressed in chords and rhythms now resonant and harmonious sometimes dissonant and desperate as the context in which our troubles arise.
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