1. |
|
|||
Having pried our eyes
open at the sky
and having seen the dawn to come
haunted by it like the blinding sun
hoarding weapons for the days to come
gathering covens, comrades
Marching for a crimson glory
plotting to manipulate
hands of fate, or become them
To break our chains
or strangulate
our gilded foes
with our gathered hands
we shall return our lands
We come from before
when the seers could see
with those who sowed the trees
in those vast green seas
who erected the stones
overturned by time and smashed
by those who we'll crush
like the throats of the tyrants
behind the chains they once bound us in
the shadows of their towering marble
there will be plots among the masses,
to see the forgotten fed
while streets run red
with total war between the classes
So! Until then, let us work
to bring about what could be called
our place between
this world and the next
where the grating jaws of life
dare not reach
where the carefully stacked stones
of our bonds to each other
protect from the rays to be unleashed
on our world by those cowards
whos blood must be spilled
may their world crumble in our gathered hands!
The cinnabar banners of the material necessity
of war will stream once more before
the forgotten temples of the past
the coming strife in the defense of life has been foretold
Every tree cut will be avenged as their world is choked
by its greed if the masses don't meet the need
to fight for their own right to breathe...
Be united, as its been said
fists are stronger than a finger
in the faces of our oppressors and enemies
And with that, being said!
find your joy, even in the shadow of the world
to come, in the kinships, forged in the war against
the eternal foes, the same earth in our wounds
cements our bonds!
masses fed, the illgotten gains,
foothold in the war we will face
From the shadows, to forge a might, with which we can,
seize our home between worlds
From the fields, to the mountains, collectivize
we can forge, our home between worlds
Out from beneath, the veil of fear, come forth to fight,
for your home between worlds
HOME IS A WEAPON IN THE WARS TO COME
FOOD IS A WEAPON IN THE WAR FOR THE HOME BETWEEN
SOIL IS A WEAPON IN THE WAR AGAINST THE WORLD TO COME
WHAT GROWS FROM THE BLOOD AND BONE WILL BRING FORTH THE CHOSEN ONES
THE EMPIRE CAN ONLY CRUMBLE IN THE MASSES GATHERED HANDS
FROM ITS ASHES WE CAN GROW WHAT WE CAN
A HOME IS A WEAPON IN THE WAR FOR THE SOIL
IS A WEAPON IN THE WAR FOR THE HOME
|
||||
2. |
Curse Breaking
04:46
|
|
||
The ancient echo of blood
dries like it bleeds through
the pages of time
the mass death implied by mixed tones
and forgotten tongues
Atrophiied social organs
at the fringes of the dying empire
called to what once was before
a sacred duty
to those who will come to be
patterns of life must once again
become etchings in the flesh
roadmaps of the waterways
as rituals of war
become the oars thru the streams of life
communal cleansing
the flesh and the hearthfire
preparation of the home
where the ancestors are interred
within the walls
Laying into the grooves
left by the tank treads of ritual
blood-sprinkled papers
burn gold and illuminate
visions in the copal resin smoke
gazing into the hollowed sockets
of the inevitable and accepting what
will be as lifetimes of toil dissipate with the illusions of what once seemed so real
All returns to breath
inverted trees drawing life
from the air with or without
the conscious mind
individualist delusion mistakes the fruit for the tree
disregarding the mystery that causes both to be
the slow grope for eternity, the accumulating complexity
of the material forms return once more to the void
from whence they came, only to be released
again, like a breath slightly held, or curse broken,
whos caster has long ago died
|
||||
3. |
|
|||
From the rural vastlands
to the lush green trees and brown mountains
flame charred earth returns to life
in the growing storms to come
let the masses prepare the rafts
for the deluge of their wrath
as the collective rage coagulates
against the mere aesthetic pretensions
people must gather their arms
and their compassion
so that in the ashes of the old world,
new growth will bloom
To seek the light
of a less judgmental sun
Gold stars in the smogblood sky
illuminate a shining path
from the mountains to the city
how we can march with steadied aim
and measured eye
comrades hand in hand
Towards the Crimson Triumph
Go now forth, steeled and steeped
as you must be
in the wisdom
of what has come before
Through the fog of fear
let the mind be as a spear
in the phalanx with your siblings in battle
Cast off the slavers
cursed yoke of chattle
to instead drag
the sled of revolution
Through the bog of indifference
and the swamp of lies
on the path bloodied by martyrs
Do not aspire to become one of the corpses
but live to fight, sharpen yourselves into weapons
open our veins of the needless comfort
or go forth up the temple steps of the great other
and be honored with your own
crimson triumph
With the careful effort of the masses
we can crush the eternal foes of the working class
let the call to revolution be a warm invitation to truth
the acceptance of death
In the face of the fight for life
towards the crimson triumph
|
||||
4. |
Lengthening of Days
04:26
|
|
||
the sun has returned, cast a shadow in the stone,
for the feast of blood, knife of the black mirror
feast of flesh, feast of grain, to them its all the same
since the golden one went to the place below
and with their soul, did they sow, with our blood, did it grow
when our mother returned his seed to mortal realm
Return the land, heal the maize, untangle the silk within
Remember, the blood to be spilled, and prepare for whats to come
Be encircled by your brethren, and the sorority of eternity
at the solstice hearth or through these hymns for winter
center thyself, on what is, and its echo, from long ago
witness the profane become the sacred as the memory returns
and the hearthwood is consumed, and the waters begin to boil
and the ancient aroma, fills the air, though tainted,
with invaders flesh, this ritual restores our soil,
but only through our toil, will the mother be made anew
So, For the Sun and the Rain, bless our scourges' pain
And may their cries remind us, we are all the same
their sacrifice tills the soil for planting
Let us match their sobs, with the songs we will sing
til then, let the kernels' churn and the fires burn
their bones, to the mortar and the pestle
to thicken the boiling broth
As the mountain of plantain leaves is consumed
May the flesh be blessed and entombed
shrouded, by the leaves and bound in twine
and cast into the steam, where in its vapor holds
the supernal memory of the matriarchs, they who have always
kept the hearthfire, of the old gods, alive.
Honoring, whether they know it or not, the suns' rise
over the third temple, in the lost world,
its echo felt, in their labor over the feast
for centuries, on repeat
Blood Kernel Cult
Our Flesh In the Pot
Our God is our Crop
Hail the wheel of time
Hail the workers, the crime
Our god we will grind
their lords, we will find
on the flesh we will feast
its ritual, eternity
all partake so casually
no thought of the casualties
the pattern, eternal, its reason
cthonic, and supernal
partake as you will
but consider the blood spilled,
on the pyramids in the jungle
or the blood spilled to forget them
and hail those that remember
|
||||
5. |
|
|||
Hear our sword
in the making of our prayer
materially
Temehhse Ollini Tlasohtla Ehekatl
Let the world's tragedy cease to feed our feast
|
Periodeater Los Angeles, California
noise for the end, songs for beginning
guillotine dreams
and ancestor worship
whispers of the void manifested for those yet to come
PERIODEATER is perpetrated by
SUMMONER OF BLOOD
Streaming and Download help
Periodeater recommends:
If you like Periodeater, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp