Negros ojos miran hacia la oscuridad.
Alguien que he visto en mis sueños...
¿Quién es?
Piensa. Está dentro.
Miedos ocultos a una luz
que nunca verás.
Angustia infinita.
Insecto incapaz.
Temor al propio ser,
determinante de tu vida.
Hilos imposibles de cortar...
Están dentro.
Fermento del 'Yo'.
Purgante del alma
El cielo no es material: eres nada.
Negando la razón de tu vida
(origen dual),
tu sangre se espesa.
Guiado hacia el umbral,
mira a tu luz.
Black eyes look towards the darkness.
Someone I have seen in my dreams…
Who is it?
Think. He is inside.
Fears hidden to a light
you will never see.
Infinite anguish.
Incapable insect.
Fear to the very being,
determining your life.
Strings impossible to cut…
They are inside.
Ferment of ‘Self’.
Purgative of the soul.
The sky is not material: you are nothing.
Denying the reason of your life
(dual origin),
your blood thickens.
Guided to the threshold,
look towards your light.
A ferocious display of blackened stoner-doom from Moscow's Moanhand, who offsets moments of bleak ugliness with clean, haunting melody. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 23, 2021