Voices from distant moons are calling
But in tongues beyond comprehencion
Primordial senses have awakened
Omnipresent is the abhorrence
We reap what we sow
But are not ready for the things that Follow
Reveal the paths to forgotten
Manifest to conquer

No tree can grow to heaven
Unless its roots reach down to hell

Hallucinations of serenity
True domination of mindspace.
Malevolence we mirror shall 
one day reflect from the rain you feed.
Streets will flood with misery .
Pouring into the ocean of madness.
Derelict is the inner child
Welcome the shadow

No tree can grow to heaven
Unless its roots reach down to hell

Let the roots of the shadow grow
And let your branches reach the skies
No tree can grow to heaven
Unless its roots reach down to hell
Welcome the shadow
And take control
Take control

Welcome The Shadow

Miasmatic tells gruesome fishing tales from Oulu, a city where the weather is colder than their riffs. They play faster than a reindeer on Red Bull, shred like Yngwie on fire, and growl like a monster with a hangover. Five Norsemen with sisu in their veins and metal in their pancakes, we set sails and drag you straight into the abyss… or possibly into a parallel dimension where fish scream and time is a suggestion.