1. |
Putrid Incarnation
03:20
|
|||
|
An undesired soul rotting in the dirt, it never had a chance to survive.
It got deprived the comfort of a mother’s womb, just to be abandoned in a grove.
Now it sings as the night falls.
Mrgllllglrrmgl!
Brought into the physical realm, just long enough to feel its sting.
To get a taste of betrayal, before starvation began to set in.
The hunger grew as the body decayed, Its form was weak but its will prevailed.
Rebirthed through discontent, the spark delivered by pain.
A once discarded soul now infests our world, will you stand a chance to survive?
Will you become a victim of a reluctant womb, or will you lead a bastard to its tomb?
As bound by the umbilical cord, it clings to our material sphere.
To engorge on expecting mothers, and devour those who tread near.
The hunger grows as life gestates, the taste of conception might numb the pain.
The scorned will persevere until given a name.
|
||||
2. |
Embers in the Bog
03:05
|
|||
|
Legends speak of men once drowned in the rivers.
Whose shackled souls use their wrath as tinder.
Land corrupted by festered biomass, transmogrified by hostile spirits.
Lighting embers in the bog, flames that whisper in the fog.
Lights so bright they cloud the mind, coloring the emptiness.
They lure one in with empty vows of solace for the soul.
The embers dance, manifesting the mire's desire to let roots ensnare.
To dissolve the flesh and imprison one's essence.
Legends speak of men once drowned in the rivers.
Whose rotting bones make one lust for cinder.
The only green, the scum of livid weed oozing thick over pitch-black waters.
Taste the liquids of the bog and you’ll never leave the fog.
Come closer. We have awaited thee here at the bottom.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Beaten down, broken, and banished to the crypts below.
Eyes adapting to perpetual darkness.
Isolation sharpening instinct.
The only sustenance their fellow man.
Form distorted through the ages.
Anthropophagus abominations.
Underground, clawing dirt, tunneling.
Once deprived of nourishment, their last resort is to resurface.
Scavenging in the dead of night, emanating from their caverns, set to strike.
The ravenous scourge prepared to emerge, a swarm awaiting sundown.
The moon’s luminescence calls forth an infestation that leaves graves desecrated.
Seeking out the stench of sweet degradation through pest-ridden trenches of the land.
The festering horde has come to engorge, craving foul intestines.
The dead disentombed, rib cages cracked, skulls getting smashed.
Bred in necrosis, their young incubated post-mortem.
The brood kept warm by fermentation.
Now it’s our turn.
To feast upon your dead.
To spread our next of kin.
To Spawn a flesh-bound plague.
Now it’s our turn.
To violate the pure in essence.
To feast upon your dead.
To excavate what's held most sacred.
To spread our next of kin.
To impregnate your perished maidens.
To spawn a flesh-bound plague.
Scavenging under the veil of night.
|
||||
4. |
Beast of the Abysmal Sea
04:28
|
|||
|
A hardened ship and crew, sailing under northern lights.
Misguided by the stars, supplies on deck are running dry.
No end to the horizon.
A shadow emerges from the sea.
Its stench brings sailors to their knees.
Harpoons ready at hand.
A roar thunders through the night, a titan reaching for the skies.
Its eyes as black as the abyss, they’ve seen eternities fade.
Behold, a terror of the deep.
A mass of tentacles and teeth.
It knows no guilt.
Mere mortals screaming in dismay, as limbs tear through hull and prey.
What’s not devoured by the beast, gets swallowed by the sea.
It will retreat, far, far beneath the abysmal sea.
Until hunger breaks its slumber and history repeats.
|
||||
5. |
Submerged in Blood
02:50
|
|||
|
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.
|
||||
6. |
No Flesh Shall Be Spared
04:33
|
|||
|
“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.
|
||||
7. |
A Monument to Uncreation
03:34
|
|||
|
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.
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
“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.
|
||||
9. |
Harmony in Ruin
05:06
|
|||
|
Corrosive clouds have festered the air.
There’s nothing left but pests and despair.
Our monolith of prosperity was laced with extinction.
Contorted remains, twisted and maimed, now roaming lands.
It whispers of death, twisting the soul.
Implanting the seed of its host.
That repurpose bone and distort the form.
Metamorphosis, indifferent, pure.
A terminal breath spewing infection from within, spreading a necrotic haze.
Invoking the end of humanity as the signal is spread, our calling to unify or die.
This beacon of stone, obsidian, cold.
Amplifying the song of its host.
To resonate, and defile the soul.
A mutation, rampant, engorged
A call of the void, deceptive and old.
Spreading the gifts of its hosts.
To gather the flesh, to make us whole.
Convergence its ultimate goal.
From where the starlight decays down to crimson invisible waves, the brethren's hymn reverberates. Demanding all bodies integrate.
|
||||
10. |
The Vermin's Secret
03:30
|
|||
|
The city’s cathedral stands vacant and grey.
But theming with rodents under every nook.
Streets veiled in silence.
A desolate wind propagating a stench from the gutters,
where something ferments, oozing from sewers below.
The liquids seep as a crucible breeds pestilence.
Our mischief congregates at night, scheming under pale moonlight.
The vermin holds the knowledge of what happened to the dead, but a pest keeps its secrets.
That is unless you barter with some of your own.
Rats emerge from every crevice, crawl out of every hole.
The dark of night gleaming with eyes.
Now is the time to speak, reveal thine offering, will they accept it or feed?
Let the rats reveal the passage to an altar of the damned where they’ve gathered all the bones,
reducing them down to a black, contagious broth.
They bestow onto thee a whisper that reeks of pestilence.
Consume the liquids where we brood.
Allow our fleas to suck your wounds.
Go to the docks and head toward the moonlight.
Now carry our secret and forward our bubonic gift to horizons beyond.
|
||||
11. |
A Persistent Threat
02:48
|
|||
|
Prostration. I feel the thoughts degrade, the vision blur and surroundings fade.
Focus. I must remain awake, if awareness slips, I’ll let it in.
When the noise displaces light and dilutes the time.
That’s when the darkness calls, scraping its claws.
Movement restricted to a flicker of the eye.
Petrified under a crushing force of ill.
Its tormenting whispers, a hymn of dread.
Come to me where it's damp and cold. Where the shadows grow teeth and terror ingests the soul.
My persistent threat, a hazy silhouette with words of venom and the scent of death.
With a rotted grin and relentless stare.
No matter where I go, it’s always near.
This abscess of the void, it is my parasite of mind.
It never lets me go, always lurking out of sight.
Immobilized by fear, an oppression that confines.
My torment never ends, will I make it through the night?
Now you will be mine until the dawn is here.
|
||||
12. |
Lair of the Blind Ones
04:10
|
|||
|
Deep down the foulest of pits dwells a race exiled from the light.
Atrophied eyes since long lost their purpose.
Muffled drums underneath the surface.
All new settlers beware.
They’ll know where you are as long as a pulse is beating.
Fly, run, get away, hide.
The line fades from the sundial.
Leave any stragglers behind.
When the darkness sets they emerge.
All you settlers beware.
The cover of Sol is all that keeps you breathing.
No one will heed the desperate cries of a primate as it's dragged further down the lair of the blind ones.
Their succulent stench thickening the air of the caverns, hollowing out the Lost Land’s masses.
As they’re carving away, toward the heart of the planet. Polluting its blood and hacking at its veins.
Corrosive cinder spewing from numerous lesions that won’t ever seal alas there hides a fault in the balance.
An infection at the core of existence itself.
A remnant from its birth.
An umbilical cord channeling malice from the warp, feeding gangrenous sores.
Oozing pestilent flesh that’s seeping through the void.
|
||||
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.
If you like Gravecrawler, you may also like:
Oracular Hexations
by Diabolic Oath
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 12, 2024
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 29, 2024
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 18, 2023
go to album
Plight of Acceptance
by The Mosaic Window
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jun 23, 2023
go to album
ROTTING CHRIST "A Dead Poem" [TOD053]
by Rotting Christ
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jun 9, 2023
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Dec 9, 2022
go to album
Channeling philosophical quandaries into cavernous death metal, the Australian trio turn modern power struggles into an aural advantage.
go to album
