Incantations penetrate the furthest reaches of the Gods.
Not the care of the skies, or revolving stars,
Can avail as an excuse to the deities she calls,
Day delays to rise on earth, the Sun a mere catspaw.
What went we into this wilderness to find?
Leaving our country, our kindred, our farther's houses, and for what?
At the crux of a baleful knoll,
Wicked council, come as one.
To live deliciously.
To relish in the taste of butter.
To be clothed in a fine dress.
To fly from this serpent's nest.
My corrupt nature is empty of grace,
Bent unto sin, and that continually.
supported by 162 fans who also own “With Bruised & Bloodied Feet”
this was the first album of death metal that I listened to, and I've been in love with the genre ever since. there's something about the uniqueness of this LP though that makes me keep coming back to it grandt-white
Screamo, post-rock, and a little black metal meld together for Virginia quartet Infant Island's signature immersive and melancholy sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 28, 2020