Anarchist, black metal from the UK. Ⓐ|Ⓔ


Lyrics: 

Black Cloth

When you use the word pragmatic
Who will be lumbered with the sacrifice?
Who are your unlucky few?
It is a fairly cheap form of optimism
When you set the bar so low.
Taken out of context
Of every previous conflict,
The arrogance of thinking this is like never before.

Do you want things to be better,
Or just slightly easier for you?

This isn't going to come easy,
We're not going to vote this away,
We'll have to firebomb their palaces,
Lets bury the hatchet...
Deep in their skulls!

Because a government won't grant us all freedom,
The rich won't give back the land,
The only true freedom is freedom for all,
Each life guided by its own hand.

A government won't grant us all freedom,
The rich won't give back the land!

Cauldron of Rebirth

You are a waste to be sad in summer,
You can't make a good job of what's in your head.
	You are disgusting.
How to best describe the desperation 
of believing lies
That you first told?
I guess I must have whispered them too often;
“It will get brighter with the weather,
It will get brighter with the weather...”

 I swear I am getting weaker,
I swear I am slowing down.
	You wallow.

And yet slowly evening draws in,
You watch as the dust settles.
Tremble with the relief of having outlived
The daylight once again.
Take pleasure where you can,
The sun may fight you all the harder the next time.

Breath heavy the dusk air.

Strident Voices

It is hard to look at her,
She holds my gaze and it stings my eyes,
An ache that threads
Through my brain.
As hard as I try I cannot think
Of what reason she would give
For accompanying me.
And I don't ask, in case she cannot either.
I look upon her as though a stranger,
What brought us here?
What absurdity that we two have any connection?
Every day 
I am the understudy
Disconcertingly drafted in,
To convince of a character 
That is greater than I,
That no one expected me to truly ever be.

Oh the grace, the strength,
That she has never realised she has;
As it would have been the death of us,
And surely the making of her. 

Loyalty in her reaches new heights,
Beauty has taken a new turn,
Inadequacy has found a new name 
And it is mine. 

At The Still Point

Another morning in tears,
The piano hammers out.
You catch yourself absconding with
All the worlds heavy truths,
To flirt with the foolish optimism that
Is the start of winter.

Drunker absurdities:
'it will be romantic,
There is beauty in the cold!'
There is not,
And it will try kill us.
That is a truth that all the trees know.

We stray too far from the sun,
The Earth strains at it's tether.

A Colony of Fevers

We will bring a close to your supremecy,
Put an end to you illegitimate power.
You are a thorn in the side of the honest,
A blight on the lives of the good.
Moral outrage is again betrayed
By the comfort of calm.
Filth, filth, filth will be the cry;
So that you are dehumanised.
Every time you turned your guns on civil rights,
Every time you told a rape victim she lied,
Every single pig, every single time,
Is the guardian of privilege,
And an enemy of mine.

For some of you we'll just blame the system,
Some of you will be given a chance,
But once this nightmare is over
You'll no longer be able to blame circumstance.



Dawn Ray'd