Damn. you used to be fun and take ya on a sexy rock & roll trip, this just sucks

The main riff had been rolling around in my for awhile at the time so I though I would try and flush out the idea with Jeremy Colson when we were at Sun Prairie Studio. A year later Corey would come over and sing on it & we then had the song Unfinished.


Enjoy 
Josh

Audio Secrecy

Unfinished

The Sick, The Dying… And The Dead!

We’ll Be Back

Part 2: https://soundcloud.com/prophet-of-hatred-7113095/harvester-pt-2

Lyrics:

I feel the leak through fractured skin,
An endless thread, drawn out, drawn in.
Fading pulse, a cinder's sigh,
The seconds rot behind my eyes.

Cursed hands unseen, they plunder slow,
Harvesting the breath I owe.
A fracture forms within the soul,
Dilating into the endless fold.

Cursed hands unseen, they plunder slow,
Harvesting the breath I owe.
A fracture forms within the soul,
Dilating into the endless fold.

With every breath, I dwindle thin,
With every dawn, I break within.
They siphon life, they drink me dry,
And leave me here to calcify.

Siphon life, the withering dance,
Drawn to the void by a spectral hand.
Torn from the seed of a dying trance,
We waste, we wane, a forgotten strand.

Veins like rivers, drying slow,
Hearts like tombs that cease to glow.
What hand, what god, what hollow king,
Would strip the soul of everything?

I claw the air, but cannot rise,
The sky peels back, it shows no light.
Something feeds beyond the veil,
Each thought, each breath, a thread pulled pale.

Silent Reaper, shroud my mind,
Erase my name from time’s design.
Each heartbeat stolen, one by one,
Until the reckoning is done.

With every breath, I dwindle thin,
With every dawn, I break within.
They siphon life, they drink me dry,
And leave me here to calcify.

Siphon life, the withering dance,
Drawn to the void by a spectral hand.
Torn from the seed of a dying trance,
We waste, we wane, a forgotten strand.

Silent Reaper, shroud my mind,
Drawn to the void by a spectral hand.
Torn from the seed of a dying trance,
We waste, we wane, a forgotten strand.

Siphoned...
Withered...
Harvested...
Forgotten…
Prepare the soul for the Void to claim…

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