Bathe in the Flame

Do glitch pessoal (faixa 1) à implosão total! (faixa 10) Essa é a nossa história completa! Dez porradas prontas pra foder com a porra do sistema! #TimeBarulho | From personal glitch (track 1) to total implosion! (track 10) This is our complete story! Ten tracks ready to fuck up the damn system! #TeamScream

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You are Somewhere ✦8 | Stoner Rock - FV, female vocal 

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You are Somewhere ✦8 | Stoner Rock - FV

“All ships in convoy—maintain course.
They are out there beware."

"Up periscope.
“I have our first kill in sight.
All hands to battle stations".

Steel belly slides beneath the moon,
Black as guilt, soundless as a tomb.
Periscope tips the world in half,
A string of lights — a fragile raft.

"Feind im Visier, Tauchtiefe im Periskop"

We breathe the cold, we count the knots,
The ocean keeps the secrets we forgot.
Scan the horizon for our next kill,
Send them to the bottom, but its not a thrill.

Men with faces turned to slate,
Hands that tremble at the gate.
Orders sharpen like a blade,
We do what war insists, we are men, we are brave.

Death by a thousand torpedoes! 
sink the cargo before it reaches  port.
An order stamped in iron and salt —
kill the supply line, win the day.
We fire into the dark
and pray the guilt stays far away.

Steel coffins answer distant lights,
A flash, a bloom — and then the night.
Messages drown beneath the swell,
Names erased men gone to hell.

I hear their mothers in the tide,
Their whispered fright they cannot hide.
They might be merchants but they are brave,
Fighting hearts beat in them to the grave.

Eyes go hollow, laughter dies,
Men get ready to kill or just die.
We commit to the final attack run,
And leave behind a mess undone.

Death by a thousand torpedoes! 
sink the cargo before it reaches  port.
An order stamped in iron and salt —
kill the supply line, win the day.
We fire into the dark
and pray the guilt stays far away.

Below the waves the old world sleeps,
The sea takes vows and never weeps.
A child’s toy, a rusted tin,
Turn to ghosts the moment we begin.
The periscope withdraws, the deck is cold,
We tell our prayers inside the hold.

“I saw the wake, I saw the flame,
I lit the fuse, I spoke the name.
Do you sleep, in the freighter’s hold?
Do you dream of lands we never told?”

Every convoy passed like fate,
Every radio repeats the hate.
We stand between two burning shores,
Counting seconds, counting scores.

Death by a thousand torpedoes! 
sink the cargo before it reaches  port.
An order stamped in iron and salt —
kill the supply line, win the day.
We fire into the dark
and pray the guilt stays far away.

“Report.”
"Radio static Sir.
A name called once,
But its all gone silent,
swallowed by the sea."

Aeon III

Born Of Osiris

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