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This Patch Of Dirt Where Nothing Grows

by When Woods Make Graves

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Spinebrain
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Spinebrain One man black metal from Liverpool, England. Really committed to his work and productive. Nasty vocals and great riffing. Give him a chance. Favorite track: ...Of Eldritch Scripts.
Максим Назарян
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Максим Назарян An entrancing atmospheric black metal project. Somewhere between bands like Paysage d'Hiver or Darkspace and the earthy qualities of less pedestrian Cascadian bands is where this one fits in. Give this bro some cash so he can keep making tunes. Favorite track: The Enchantress's Tower (Part I).
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1.
As fire spreads in the clouds, Our bones - our lingering tribute to the world. Ignited from towers, Grief and despair pour forth from the smoke, As huddled loved ones cherrish their memories, The fear of unknown beyonds grasp upon their realities, That are never ready to die. Within my last breaths I whisper, To a Queen far from my hand, Togetherness is a far flung fantasy, That I hold ever dear in my glass heart. I linger too to those memories, That keep me from the solemnity of this moment, And kept me ever closer to you.
2.
Within the arms of a grieving witch, This corpse of a thousand burns does wither, Into the night sky the hags tears steam, Upon the fog, distorted by wails of this haggared crow. This pale face, reflects upon the moon.... The sudden screams that bring her into this world, Darkness surrounds and the whispers of dead pierce her, Soulless form, for she is now he - the bringer incarnate. Succumbed to this role by the torment of those left behind. Her one last breath alone, a curse upon her wretched form, Summoned by Edlritch Scripts spat forth from the elder plains. Her heart, greiving and hollow. Her tears, liquid glass prisism of anguish, Shatter upon, the very soil she left her remains upon... So, she rides in to the... Gates of Her new Lords... Time is now her power... A winged steed, a seat upon to travel through the.. Plains, of existence.. Wicked shards of malice... Her only thought is of... He, who bore her the only thing.. She, ever wanted... Upon these pillars, she strikes her hand toward the lightning, "I Reclaim my soul, If I bring you my heart bled sacrifice", To which the lords of the unknown answer; "It will be done, Your soul is yours when you bring this child to a tower". And so she rode forth, beyond the cosmic clouds and through, Our hazey nightmare world, toward a death torn sanctuary, "Rest here my child, for you journey has just begun" Admist the the fresh born pine and fern, A truth to her soul was sewn.... Her one last breath alone, a curse upon her wretched form, Summoned by Edlritch Scripts spat forth from the elder plains. Her heart, greiving and hollow. Her tears, liquid glass prisism of anguish, Shattered upon, the very soil she left her remains upon...
3.
4.
She moves through the winds, As though with time passing through her hands, Arriving at doors of ill-fated men, Lustfulnesss is her avatar, A mishapen scythe her only tool. 'Seek forth amongst these wretched spawn, A Betrothed for yourself in this realm beyond.' Within the rose, That grows from a pallid heart, The thorns scratch amongst the tears, That fall from her beloved betrothed. As your hand lays upon my spirit, The call of the night takes upon my soul, Dragged away from my fireside bed, Upon a path of fear and solemn doubt, Into a forlorn forest, Her eyes clasp upon the very feeling of my tainted spirit. A clearing in this grove, Reveals to me my eternal fate, A passage beyond this wandering nightmare, Into that of shackles of infinite regret.
5.
Beyond a ridgeline, A row of mountain fangs, There lies a tower of carnal despair. Deep within a haunted part of the plains, Erected eons ago - by beasts that no longer crawl the earth. "It calls us forth." As though it reads our every waking thoughts, We shamble through thorned vines, To reach this monument of forgotten ages. With hands clasped tightly, We step forth into the dark unkowns, The brooding eyes of the forest we left behind, Turn their thoughts to those of loss. We hear winter beat it's hand to the door, Leaving us behind. We make our homes within these decrepit walls, Sanctuary is our pact of kinship. Broken only by truths the walls begin to whisper, Alone I am here - beneath the weeping stars A Skeletal throne my only tainted comfort, As it resides your spirit and my company. In the bleakest night time, You hear the spectral wolves cry out, In the light they weep, As you wither away...

about

The cover art for this album is by a Polish artist named Zdzisław Beksiński. The piece was used, by permission, from the collection of Piotr Dmochowski, on loan to the following Beksinski museum:

www.galeria.czest.pl/wystawa-2004-1.html

With many many thanks to Joanna Matyja for her time and correspondence with regards to the use of this.

This album is a conceptual album that was inspired by Beksiński's painting.

credits

released September 3, 2012

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When Woods Make Graves Huddersfield, UK

When Woods Make Graves is a Black Metal band originally from Liverpool, England - now based in Huddersfield, England. Drawing influences from Burzum, Darkspace/Paysage D'Hiver, Weakling, Wolves In the Throne Room, Fen, Darkthrone and more. Music will always be free. ... more

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