Screaming walls keep ranting nonsense in our silence
The Sorrowman takes hostage and withholds mother away
This house is made of mirrors
Maybe he forgot our ears will keep on breathing
Maybe foolishly he thought his filth would leave no scent
Maybe he thought hate would just dispel by
Pressing it down, pressing it down, pressing it down
But children find a way to grow repeating what gives pain
His son is made of mirrors
Thirty five years of them
-
This house lives in our soul
Dread
Burning down our promises
You said we’d never be that man, no!
Shame
Building on his premises
“A chip off the old block, my son”
A house of burning coal
A baffled heart is torn
We’ve run for nothing
Flames of dread and shame
Consume our home
A suicide trend of old
Has found an empty mould
The Indonesian act Kekal leaves no genre unturned, colliding black metal with industrial music with melodic post-rock on this stunning LP. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 25, 2023
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