Life In A Coffin

Raw black metal, feral and incandescent with a sickly glow. It exults while it crushes. A celestial rot spreads through worlds and anti-worlds alike, flaking into dark ambient dust, entangled with dungeon synth carcasses and corroded metallic residue. Everything trembles in lo-fi grandeur. Tape hiss like dying lungs. Unfathomable chasms opening beneath skeletal melodies. A dream gasps its last breath and collapses inward, birthing the nightmare directly inside the abyss. Cold vertigo. Furious contemplation. The vocals are not sung but exhumed. Lysergic echoes tearing through burial soil. Keyboards spill schizophrenic torrents across a surreal wasteland where nothing lives, yet everything persists in decomposition. It is brief. It leaves wounds that itch. And still, something inside begs to return. Again. Again. Our emptied souls wander willingly into this supernatural cosmogony, circling the coffin, listening for movement within. -Sir Kuliktavikt