Mother knows best for the bringer of worlds.
A vortex of spells have pulled him in.
When does he get the day to decide where his momentum's released, and what kind of beast is conceived?
Rise my sea.
Clench fists with air as if it's the throat of your god.
They denied us.
Swear that you will never let go.
Let go.
Let go of gods who don't show their face.
And now the fountain of life runs dry.
And your mill grinds slowly, as it should.
Deities, they'll never give us what we want.
Now go ahead and pray he's on your side.
We've chosen ours.
Will you choose our messiah?
We've chosen ours.
Will you choose our messiah?
We've chosen ours.
Will you choose our messiah?
Tethers are fashioned from silk that divides lessers' distant glow.
Tin gods, they descend all the same.
They bend; it makes them easy to mold for our gospel's songs.
Tethers are fashioned from silk that divides lessers' distant glow.
Tethers are fashioned from silk that divides us from our lessers' distant glow.
Tin gods, they descend all the same.
Tin gods, they descend all the same.
Masterful production - deep, slow enough and a feast for your headphones. Inspiring arrangements and soul-searching vocal performances from a vast array of styles and voices. It's a mega-album, a world of its own. Up there with all the greats of the symph-prog genre. I just can't have enough of it. I like the balance between drama and calmness - always keeps you on your toes, gasping for more peaks and highs. Bordering on perfection - almost the best thing ever done in the progressive world. Uri Breitman
The Long Island metal band's third album etches arena-sized hooks into their jagged compositions, deftly balancing experimental and poppy inclinations. Bandcamp Album of the Day May 12, 2022