пятница, 7 января 2022 г.

The Wreck Of S.S Needle

The members of his squad grow thick
A testament to “get rich quick”
No sign of mismatched features
Secondary organs from within
So on command they open
Winding clockwork sirens as they come
Scramble the rock face through the glare of morning sun — to run

Your time is costlier than fine
The wreck of S.S. Needle
Simpletons that want all in and
Render horror feeble

Splinters always hide under the skin
From glitter of the pin
To brave a friend in battle comes
The thimble with his sign
You’ve got to spit to see the shine
Let me see you run this gamut blind

Your voice, it shakes
You smile so dryly
Let us see and touch you lightly
The moon is so unseemly, bright
Cut your hair off
Watch all night
Splinters always hide under the skin
The battle of the thimble and the pin
Put me down where I can see you run
The battle of the thimble and the pin
Put me down where I can see you run

 Cult Of Luna & Julie Christmas - The Wreck Of S.S Needle

I will never know if this encounter was an accident or a gift of fate, but I know that now I am connected to you forever.
This music is something absolutely unreal. Thunderous walls of sound that are synchronously destructive and profoundly pensive, layered with textured vocals that evoke contrasting feelings, from bliss to anxiety, balancing on the edge of pure schizophrenia, creates an absolutely absorbing blend, that keeps me drawn into this vivid, yet grim imagery...
Incredible balance flows smoothly into unity, splitting into two perfect parts to become one again, uniting soul and consciousness in a sense of endless, pulsating and violent catharsis. This music is destructive by nature, but beautiful, like the sea in a storm, mysterious, like the cause of its origin, endless, like the running of time from the very moment of its creation.
...And if that tune had broken off and been lost in the expanse of the digital world, its memory would have haunted me indefinitely, appearing in the silence of dreams and the coolness of the night wind, like a quiet sadness about a treasure lost forever...

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