I fall asleep in the hollow tree;
Hallowed soil underneath me.
Life springs up from the loam;
Verdant moss clung to the stone.
The pitched hum of buzzing bugs
Blankets the night in a gauzy calm.
The flint struck song
Of that communal flame,
Incandescent,
It lights our face.
In circles we sing,
Our voices rise,
A chorus tonight
In harmony.
I awake to the sweltering heat,
My face flush with the ceiling.
Sour breath and shallow sleep,
Push their way up on top of me.
The violence of measured time
Will mar the rest of our fucking lives
My body a shell,
A carapace crushed
Under these heels.
Practiced hands
Drum the dirge,
Amongst the whirr;
The mourning of
These machines.
Time moves so slow,
And we will never know,
The constant glow,
Of stars over our home.
The smog surrounds,
And the endless sound
Of those listless shouts,
Sew our burial shroud.
Black bile, cough up exhaust
Dream of white birches--the life we lost.
They stole the stars from the sky
To force us, sore and wincing through
Mechanized hells.
If you're going to go out in apocalyptic style you might want to have the 40 minute title track playing loud at your side. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 12, 2013
supported by 15 fans who also own “Freedom Fever Dream”
Hermit Knight is always a special adventure, between emotions of joy and pain, of a sensitive intensity. Listening to this opus reminds me of those little companions that I loved so much. They are forever in my heart. Forever 🖤 𝕽𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖉