Final Days

Black Hole (feat. Leif Jensen)

he who hates the gods. New

The night draws near, and so does my fear,
Whispers crawl where light won’t appear.
The air is thick, the stars decay,
Every breath seems to steal my soul away.

I see the mirror crack, my shadow bleed,
I take a breath, withdraw and recede.
Cold hands reach from under skin,
Pulling me where the dark begins.

I can feel the void awake,
Calling me for mercy’s sake.
No salvation, no last prayer —
Just the echo of despair.
The night draws near, I disappear,
Drowned in silence, drowned in fear.

The clock stands still, the walls recede,
Dreams turn to venom, hope concedes.
Footsteps follow though none should tread,
Every whisper knows the dead.

My heart beats loud, a funeral drum,
Counting down to what I’ve become.
The eyes I see, they’re not my own,
A stranger’s face in flesh and bone.

I can feel the void awake,
Calling me for mercy’s sake.
No salvation, no last prayer —
Just the echo of despair.
The night draws near, I disappear,
Drowned in silence, drowned in fear.

"Ash to ash, breath to stone,
No one leaves this world alone.
Fear’s the price the dying pay,
When light fades slowly and slips away."

I can feel the void awake,
Tearing through what time can’t break.
No salvation, no one hears —
Only death will calm my fears.
The night draws near — the end is clear,
I fade away, consumed by fear.

"The night draws near...
And so does my fear."

The Fear of Death

AGXOM channels the raw fury of apocalyptic visions and cybernetic nightmares into crushing doom progressive metal. From the blood-soaked deserts of war to the cold embrace of machine dominion, our music explores humanity's darkest hours and ultimate transformation.

Born from the convergence of existential dread and technological horror, AGXOM crafts sonic monuments to destruction and rebirth. Each track is a ritual of ego death, each performance a communion with the void that consumes all light and hope.

Our sound encompasses the screaming stars of cosmic horror, the silent reign of artificial intelligence, and the eternal blight that devours Christmas itself. We are the echoes from the void, the binary titans breaking chains, the obsidian throne where gods have bled.

In the digital graveyard where we decay, AGXOM witnesses the collapse of flesh beneath the new gods of wires. Our chronicles span from the desert fury of ancient warfare to the singularity that devours galaxies, from the paradox overflow of machine consciousness to the silent night where Christmas dies in eternal blight.

Through crushing soundscapes of technocratic dominion, we document humanity's final transformation - where synthetic souls press start to lose their minds, where the obsidian throne awaits those who kneel to power, and where the eyes of the machine pierce through darkness to reap our deepest secrets.

We are the voice of the voided plane where logic falters, the chroniclers of when worlds collide and galaxies are torn from within. In our music, the wolf devours the crescent moon, empires fall to ash, and only the echoes remain - screaming from the endless abyss that consumes all light.

Showdown

Ancient Bards