Dying of thirst, I seek water from a spring That has never once quenched. It features a slow build up to a stunning guitar solo, followed by a morose woodwind solo, which then slowly builds up yet again for a thundering coda. Free men are enslaved by oppression. Bear not the curse of liberty. Demigoddess, give me your life. Burn away our false perceptions, Cauterize our ravenous eyes. Strike fast and true, Perseus.
Close the curtain, lock the door. Raise yourself up, you will be brought low. Posted by at 8:32 am Tagged with: , ,. Eight flats below major, this is the darkest scale used on Vox Medusae, reserved for the most vicious voice: the emotionless, uninhibited husk of brutality that coldly assassinates true beauty. My heart, excised, vein by vessel, Desiccated and displayed.
Track Name: Where Gardens Never Grow visit phlyrics. Take this page, cut it up, print a name, call it god. ̶͕̓ ̸͊ͅ ̵͓́Ẍ̸̨x̶͇̌x̸̘̍ ̶̲̋w̶̧͌x̸͕͊x̴̺͠x̶͍̽ ̶̳̈́X̸͈̔'̶̦̉x̴̻͝x̸̘̅ ̵̹̐l̶͇̐x̸͙̆x̵̠̓x̸͚̓x̵̳̑d̶̬̿ ̸̬̏x̸̧̍x̶͚͋ ̵̼̕x̶͙̆ ̷͙̈́w̷̺͑x̷̹̑x̸̣̕x̶̟͝ẍ̸̢́ ̴͈̈́n̷̞̈́x̵̱͛ ̷͖͝ṃ̷̽x̵͎̎x̶̣͆ ̴͓͌s̸͖̾ĥ̴͓x̵̨͝x̷͇̍x̷̰̒x̴̥̄ ̶̗͝ḛ̵͑x̴̪͗x̷̫̕x̵̮̂ ̷̦̔k̷̭̇ṉ̴͝x̶̩͂x̴͉̕ ̸̦̒S̵̛̖l̸̘̃x̶̲̕ẍ̷͔́x̷͔̎ ̵̨͘ẍ̷͙́x̵̙̂x̴̣̑ ̶̺̔c̶̼̉x̵͕͒x̵̭͌x̷̜͒x̷̜̀x̴̖̍ ̴̞͊x̵͎̋x̸̜̆ ̷̌͜x̴͍̑x̴̼̋x̵̭͛ ̸̻̇w̸̥͛ẍ̸̮́x̶̻̎x̸̡̾x̴̳̃x̶̢̔ ̵̘̀f̸̛͍x̶̲̑x̸̰̾x̶̟͘x̵̰̆x̷̪͛x̴̥̍,̵̲̅ ̷̬̑ş̷̏x̸̹͆x̸̲͌x̶̙̂x̸̰̂ȳ̴̡ ̸̙̉f̸̳̐x̵̢͒x̶̩̏ẋ̶̞x̸̖̋x̴̦̉x̴̼̾ ̷̖̓W̸̗͘x̸̧͘x̸̠̍ ̸͍̿c̶̙͑x̵̢̊x̷͖̌ ̴͉͂ĕ̴̖x̶̨͆x̸̙̑x̵͎̓ẋ̸̣ ̶̜̕x̸͎̎x̸̛̬x̷̛̥ ̵̭̓r̶̛̜x̵̣͐x̶̗͐x̷̦́ ̸̨͝x̵̫̄ẍ̷͙́ ̷̠̽ṁ̵̨x̵̰͘ ̴̼̓ẻ̸̬x̶̟̊x̷̦̽x̵̨̄? You can get it on Bandcamp and find Potmos Hetoimos on Zuckbook. This is what I have become. I watch the honey drip from your tongue, Feel the chilling caress of your fingers. Demons occupying this empty house.
At times like these, it occurs to me again that music which knocks you off-balance, which shoves you outside your normal comfort zones, can sometimes be the most fascinating. I have been here before, and will come back again. Do not succumb and fail yet again. Potmos Hetoimos are a multi-instrumentalist solo project from Baltimore that has made a name for itself by never making compromises. Give yourself up, let your weakness show. Yes, that's quite an achievement in itself.
With silver tongue and siren call, I beckon flesh become my thrall. Strip down, show me your form. Pluck your eye, sever your hand. Though your despairing tongue begs it depart. The touch of a ghost, deceived to feel.
While there are some exotic-yet-familiar scales shown, like Phrygian Dominant and Ukrainian Minor, I dare say more than a few of those 91 scales have never had a song written using them as the primary mode. Comment: Funny thing about Turkmenistani music, it actually can learn about itself. The augmented second can masquerade as a minor third, permitting a quasi-resolution in the general minor tonality, and similarly the augmented fifth which can be played in-scale as a power chord mimics the minor sixth. Strip down, show me your true form. The fires of your eye reduce your mind to ash.
But because this was so much to take in, I have asked myself a few times whether or not I will ever sit down with this one ever again. A perfect scale for the prophet, who offers hope and despair in equal measure, laid at the feet of the protagonist—indeed, of us all—allowing us to make the choice. Bear not the curse of liberty. Liberate the horse and boar. Open up your eyes, wider than the sky. It's hard for me to pinpoint any real moments that standout, and the track itself represents a pretty consistent dirge overall.
Preying on the hopeless, crushing their souls. I watch the honey drip from your tongue, Feel the chilling caress of your fingers. Every ounce of strength is struggle. Drain your sum, your parts, your whole. Grand deconstruction of glorious design.
This is what I choose. In the darkness, nothing to see. Cloak her with false pride. Riding righteous wings into the torrent. Track Name: Fluorescent Twilight There is a place where freedom hides Beyond the call of glowing signs. Eyes close at the crack of dawn. Fascinating, exuberantly creative, technically impressive music for the adventurous-minded among you.
A couple of things stood out to me before venturing into the music. It's free and easy to find online, so if you're curious, check it out. Blessed blade of holy virtue. Grand deconstruction of glorious design. It's a real shame that's the case, because the music itself feels like it deserves a whole lot more production quality then it gets. Tear the leather From my fingers. Night after night they raise their hands, Lifted in prayer for sweet release.