1. |
Cheiron
04:03
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Cheiron, the wounded, the teacher
Descendant of deified monsters
We align our stars in his reflection
Our beast blood raging and fatally poisoned
Harnessed through fashioning insight
Our offering an ever-shifting immortality
To empower you, Prometheans
Words, time, eyes
Like swords, spears, shields
For the breaking and making of worlds
For the breaking and making of worlds
We align our stars in his reflection
We teach the art of sublimation
Transforming Lernaean poison
Alchemical fire
From blindness and disease
We align our stars in his reflection
For the breaking and making of worlds
We align our stars in his reflection
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2. |
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An infinite loop of forking roads in which they who
Draw the map trace the roads most travelled
As possibility is not a given in blood
It is bestowed upon or wrenched from grasps.
A stylus which punctures the notion of presence
A plain which only captures its perceived distances.
Labyrinth, layer, stream
A flow of earth and gold, means and power
We speak their language
We give away victory upon victory
The third, the second, the first face of defeat
Slain
The conjuring of illusory permanence
Represent the world back to itself
A monistic world-entanglement
To judge all of this as given
Is to fall into despair
I have molded this being into my image
This story’s frames are the limits I have set
A line which weaves and collapses onto itself
Until the mirror does not reflect but welcomes.
An incomplete but not inaccurate representation of being.
Hiding worlds, not world
Worlds of such wealth
Such wealth
Unlimited power and unlimited danger
An endless field of caverns
Conjure the irreal
Where are the gaps and the cracks in the sphere?
We wander the spaces between the worlds
Looking back over wreckages, labyrinths, versions
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3. |
Precipice
13:56
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I am almost among the nonexistent, teetering on a precipice
The last marrowed bone scaffolds still extrude offered up for the impact
Of a rolling and searching and beating tide of fear
Night and blindness
If I am not recognized as real, what is done to me cannot be described as violence
What lays ahead of me will not be worth remembering, a systemic incompatibility
I remain, suspended, but still, strangely, animated
Night and blindness
A scepter, a specter, a scythe
A precipice refuge,
Ordained for endangered life,
Exposed, and barren, and windswept.
Sovereignty claimed through the work of death,
A spiral transgression.
A spiral transgression.
Night and blindness
A scepter
A specter
A scythe
Transgression ingrained through suspended attack,
An enemy’s revelation.
Sovereignty claimed through the work of death,
A spiral transgression.
Night and blindness
A scepter, a specter, a scythe,
Witness to an amputation,
Ordained for life laid bare,
The sequelae of excommunication.
Night and blindness
A scepter
A specter
A scythe
When the blood of the other
Is an attempt on my blood
When the life of the other
Is an attempt on my life
Existence anchored in erasure
Existence for a ruler of life
A few scented flakes of violet
‘With his death fade the dreams of the world’
Life beyond utility,
A thing condemned,
Forced to stand,
All transparency and massacre,
Decreed to be nothing,
Ungrievable,
In death-worlds of exception.
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Terzij de Horde Utrecht, Netherlands
Terzij de Horde combine an amalgam of progressive black and doom metal with a rawness reminiscent of extreme hardcore or
chaotic screamo.
Terzij de Horde is Dutch for “athwart the horde”. It is a line from the poem “Einde” (ending) by legendary Dutch poet Hendrik Marsman. Marsman is an inspiration to the band, as are many other authors and philosophers in the same dark vitalistic vein.
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