These are the words of my father
And of his father,
And of his father’s father, pre-armada
Phrases trapped in millennia, confined
Bound by the wicked, sequestering their brilliance
And yet, they travelled
We see
We see what began as the mouth of a river, begat great waves
Endless swells of foaming ears quivering
Eager as the slick of a pauper whore
Rife with the Great Perplexion
The diction routing fiends from our midst, in the very thick
Like the spiders ‘neath the pews
His name be praised
Witness their arrogance rise as pillars of incense and then, as wax, retreat
Sweating banners before the “all oh, my”
Raven tapestries turned pendulums, transformed
Blind, face first to the dawn
We trace the shadows West, due Deus
His name be praised
Wheel upon wheel
Without question ours was a migrant fortress
Over swamp and plain, dell and dale
Like the swarm’s ancient vendetta to feed, grinding the seed
We of the book
Bearing light and then fire
To the expanse of those who moved with the beasts
Lecherous, dagger-toothed thieves
Villains disguised as converts
These who would scrape their plates in the same mud they built their shit huts with
Incontrite
Ignorant as the shackled amputee
Resistant as a hogs firm snout, filled with worms
Proverbs made flesh
How sour a lesson we perceive in the savagery of the unacquainted
How they wailed and wailed
As if pleading for perdition
Begging, clawing the sky as if grasp it’s divine cartograph and draw it contorting to the muck where each
bled
rutted
and died
Betraying the grand design
Suits ill-fit as the pelts hung to dry
Trophies turned burial shrouds to heathen priests
Folly of the untrained, illiterate wretches
Tutorless, cave swine
Vermin easily penned
Now we see prescient victory as planned
Now we see Jeshua, Jeshua drowned in the baptismal font
Now we see shifting our gaze further on to the horizon the bitch Goddess herself
The Ladder of Pearls
Seated above the Red canal like a crow perched
His Truth cascading from both corners of her mouth, spent plasma from every star’s radius
An infinite center
Vacuous circumference
Pilfering the gift from her belly
Restoring it under our Lord’s tongue like the asp’s guarded nest
Thine will is triumph
Like waves on blood ocean
Coming over and over
And over and over again
Like rage and devotion
Killing over and over
And over and over again
supported by 10 fans who also own “II.....................MITHRA”
You're traversing the Musical Cosmos through an anomaly wormhole. You hear what could only be an inverted rainbow, despite that not making any sense. In your minds eye, you're wondering how it could possibly be red and so itchy. How could it have been opened so absolutely?
You can't unsee and you can't unhear. You are aware. And if you are devastated, you're on the right path. HisGRANDmajesty
supported by 9 fans who also own “II.....................MITHRA”
The entire spectrum called "genre" —is transcended and utterly, completely conquered. This album is devastating and even pulls back once or twice, looks you in the eye, and tells you to relax, "this part is funny".
It achieves the impossible. An album that doesn't take it self too seriously, doesn't even try, and then just radiates that which can only ever be summarized with one word—reserved only for that which truly is
–cool. Cool as double fuck.
HisGRANDmajesty