1. |
Submerged in Blood
02:50
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Rise, oh mother of blight.
As servants under your might, we have made it our mission to release you from your prison.
To witness the rise of our god.
Screams from a mortal soul spreading through catacombs, dragged to the depths below.
All hope fades as the echoes decay, failing to escape our halls.
With an offer of blood, our words will be heard.
The edge of a blade shall grant entry into this world.
By extracting a heart, we open a wound.
That tears the heavens apart
and have them serve as your womb.
By the thrust of a knife, we have scared the aether.
Initiating a rite that will free you from your prison.
Witness the rise of our god.
Remains of a tortured soul gurgling in a pile of gore til breaths can be heard no more.
Horrid is the fee for acting as the key,
summoning a deity.
Its form blots out the sun, rancid and old.
The masses it spews shape the coming fate of this world to be submerged in blood, and all born of its soil, be drowned in the flood as legends foretold.
A horror clawing at the veil separating realms.
A cosmic beast slithers in through the breach.
After eons of lurking in the dreams and fears of men, its time has come to walk as flesh again.
Tendrils piercing through the veil, unifying realms, here to usher in an age of oppression without end.
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2. |
No Flesh Shall Be Spared
04:33
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“Truly, the curse of the formerly dead is the hunger,
and it will not be denied.”
Graves robbed of their coffins.
The ever-bustling streets, void of their whores.
Children lost in commotion, and untended beasts vanish at night.
Needles threaded with sinew.
Dulled-down old blades sharpened anew.
Saws clad in corrosion.
Rusted worn-out teeth yearning for blood.
A master of his craft,
with intent divine.
And his subjects lined up
for reconstruction.
Our artisan of flesh
has each stiffened limb
meticulously stitched
back to function.
Deep in the shadows, he’s forming sculptures out of bone and of marrow.
His raw material taken straight from the gallows and reinfused with insatiable hunger.
The price to be reborn.
Graves robbed of their coffins.
The ever-bustling streets, void of their whores.
Children lost in commotion, and untended beasts vanish at night.
Through years of dedication, he manufactures life with ironclad determination.
The master of his craft is better left unknown.
His disposition of flesh shall not be questioned.
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3. |
A Monument To Uncreation
03:34
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Echoes of old still whisper in the wind amidst crumbling ruins.
A fragmented tale silently spoken by stone once carved, since long eroded.
A blanket of clouds occluding the rays sent from a mourning star.
The acidic rain corroding the soil, stained crimson with rust and of oil.
Void of sustenance, there's nothing that grows.
With death comes impunity.
The dominion of man, fallen to its own desires.
In conflicts of kings, now merged with their thrones of iron.
Swept away in a pillar of flame, turning solids to gas in a second.
As we pled.
As we burned.
None was there to answer our prayers.
Hollowed we stand, as a monument to uncreation.
Purified to ash and stripped of all ambition.
Only embers remain of our sorrows and hate, cured through mutual destruction.
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4. |
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“Bankarok, pargon, aretak, Chattur’gha, pargon.”
The cage, the reek of decay and mold.
Embraced by steel, unforgiving, cold.
The rage.
Vi förs samman.
We stand in the presence of a God.
När själar skall avlägsnas.
To destroy its corporeal form.
Och återbördas.
Cast it into the beyond.
Reciting words written in stone.
Vi har samlats.
We are here to dismember a god.
För att åderlåta.
To clip its wings and tear out its horns.
För att förgöra.
Bisect its malignant core.
To bleed it dry and burn its corpse.
Ligaments torn, tendons split, a chorus sang in anguish.
The blade that gave form now carves away, the physical tether weakened.
All flesh eventually sees its end, divine as deluded.
The chains, grinding down to the bone.
Restrained in a void, indifferent and old.
Contained.
Vi har talat.
We revoke the presence of a god.
Ty blodet skall levra.
Its avatar severed and ichor disgorged.
Och skuggan förbannas.
Banish its ethereal form.
And the wound shall seal, as written in stone.
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Gravecrawler Stockholm, Sweden
Extreme Metal act founded in the suburbs of Stockholm in the summer of 2019, with the musical intension of mixing the groove of the old-school Swedish Death Metal scene and the atmosphere of 90's Black Metal, with just a touch of Slam-like grime.
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