"Murder, the cleansed
purpose, frail, against
God, if they bring him
bleeding, I will not
forgive"*
carcasses
inhuman existence
bleeding remains
of the world
hallucinatory
revalation
hell of the past
chaos of the future
sacrificial remains
the dead, once buried
torn asunder
forgiveness
forsaken
divinity
shattered
nihil
broken glass
nothing is safe
death will bloom
in the ashes
*this chorus is a quotation from the Amiri Baraka poem "Black Dada Nihilismus"
the sky
collapses
into
the sea
decaying
forever
a broken circle
a sense of self
encaged
in bloodied rusted shackles
the nightmare
a world without dreams
the human
forgotten
violent
darkness drips
from the
walls of this
cathedral
where i lay down
to die
the cruel
skies burn above
as the firmament shatters
howling in the distance
savage creatures gather
God cries
at night
baring
its teeth
blood red
seered eye
fire light
all dies
tatters of skin
the violence of blades
a cruel hysteria
overcomes the world
no blood to spill
no life to live
ashes on ashes
the lone crow cries
scarification
raw flesh blooms
dripping yellowed fluid
drawn from the bone
the corpse you drag with you
wherever you go
now buried beneath the sand
left to scavangers
red star burns at night
there is no saviour here
rotting desert surrounds
apocalypse draws near
peeling off skin
in strips
infinite divisions
of mirrored streams
like knives
running into walls
of wax
bruised with impurity
evaporating
insect fixation
open mouth
leaking onto
wanting passage
waiting, wanting
revisceration of self
nothing of value
will be lost
if you use your nails
on the inside
with this idol flesh
compressed
filled up with fluid
wings dripping
with tar
you will
build something
worth losing
when you feel
inner walls
opening
too fast
fingers piercing
like screws
encased
in bronze
held back
penetrating
too deep
limiting imitation
you'll know
what's underneath
still
i am the silence keeper
i am the sunless fever
i am the shivering skies
i am the vessel of eyes
i am the serpent's mistake
i am the tower unmake
i am the crucifix tomb
i am the goddess cocoon
i am the angel of rape
i am the cosmic ache
nine nails
arranged
in their
chalice
i love them
as i love myself
i am what you deserve
about
alas, that my body, clean and whole, never been corrupted, today must be consumed and burnt to ashes
Ce n'est pas parce que la religion est morte que les opiacées dont le peuple a tant besoin ont disparu. Social Overdose rassemble sous une même bannière les styles les plus extrêmes — le raw black metal, la darkwave et le dark ambiant — pour créer des chansons tortueuses et torturées dénonçant les poisons distribués par le monde moderne (vu que les paroles sont fournies, je vous conseille d'en profiter). Le résultat est toxique, très cru, comme si l'album avait été enregistré dans une crypte. Jordan Vauvert