1. |
Witness
07:57
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A blue sky is rising, drowning those who crawl, avert your gaze, don't dare to look; part of the withdrawal
Converge and become one, the last defiant giant, edify the call, smother hope;
bring to silence
Outcome underlined, principal motives; the fire's disciples extinguished
No morals define hatred more, than nature's seed extinguished; we face the cold, we bear witness
The rampage that wipes us out,
part of our extinction,
what to save,
what to defend;
slaves to our inhibitions
No morals define hatred more, than nature's seed extinguished; we face the cold, we bear witness
By Styn Van Meenen
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2. |
A Baleful Sun Rises
06:03
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As the world we know crumbles to dust around us we blind our eyes and forge forward to extinction.
We are a virus.
We are a scourge.
We are a detriment to this world.
As the world we know tumbles into darkness
The promises of our elders ring empty and hollow.
The whispers of the trees shall never again speak my name.
The black tombs are silent, the dead have no remorse.
A baleful sun rises, beckoning change.
One last gasp before the long held breath.
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3. |
The Distant Woods
07:31
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The distant woods are a temple, each tree a supplicant, whispering a prayer indecipherable to human ears
Rain has darkened the pathway, as would a million tears
warm is the Earth, and still warmer by the very second
Distant corn whispers an incantation, yet the landscape is not alive
Seasons turn, but saplings have withered, new life shall not thrive
For those distant trees are a temple, echoing and fast decaying
each twig a shattered fragment of dull decaying bone
Seasons turn, but saplings have withered, new life shall not thrive
Each fallen leaf a crumble of dead grey stone
The distant woods are a temple, each tree a supplicant, whispering a prayer that falls deaf on human ears
By Sheila Sharpe
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4. |
Progress?
08:49
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The earth writhes in agony as the claws dig deeper and deeper.
Blood pours forth from gaping wounds, raining black and copper and gold.
She calls out, screams, but the cries go unheard over the deafening sounds of progress
Scars cross her back, wounds that will never heal.
Drowning in acid rain while it strips her flesh from bone.
Choking on ash and soot and filth of industry.
She calls out, screams, but the cries get ignored by the silent selfish masses.
Tears roll down her face and fall into her cracked and withered hands
With her waning voice she begs and pleads for mercy, we send her thoughts and prayers then shrug and turn away
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Urocyon Asheville, North Carolina
Urocyon was born from the ashes of the long-running Appalachian black metal band Shadow of the Destroyer. More melodic in sound, but with the same desperate rage over the destruction of our planet at the altar of capitalism.
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