Wound

by Horla

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1.
04:57
2.
07:15
3.
05:46
4.
06:13

about

A short demo whose lyrics are concerned with inter-generational war.

credits

released February 10, 2013

All music performed and recorded by O.G.
Cover art by O.G.
Logo design by Michael Bulic

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Horla Norwich, UK

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Track Name: Wound I
Heirophants of rites profane
Lead them to the open grave.
Summoning the shining beast,
Luring him with blood and wine.

"Bring us beauty, bring us light.
Hornèd one give us the right!"

Tributes for the new-found god:
The fairest flesh with open legs.
Summoning the shining beast,
luring him with gifts divine.

"Bring us beauty, bring us light.
Hornèd one give us the right!"

"I seek recompense for the things I offer:
To your freedom, your happiness, your youth,
I lay claim."

And what they wouldn't have given
For his grandest gifts!

He darkened their eyes,
He parted the flesh
And left a new wound.
Track Name: Wound II
Fomenting the demon seed,
The seed of war, in their loins.
Warranting a fear and a need
That God above no more can meet.

Taking root inside their chest
The darling buds of mayhem rest
The wound they tend they know is blest.

A cancer-foetus, a thorn in-side.

Perfecting his sinful art, the art of war,
Practicing his sinful art, the art of war
and nuclear death with their loins

They know their master is at hand,
The master with the hornèd crest
The wound they tend he knows is blest.

They travelled far to be alone,
To give birth to this thing,
This thing not quite their own.

"A fetter has been born,
A bondage has been born to me."

Tormentors, new demon-breed
dispossessing the ones who went before.
Track Name: Wound III
"Are you proud? Your scorched earth policy has killed nothing. Now you will reap the weeds you have sown. You will have but stones to nourish yourself and nothing but rags to cover your backs from the nuclear winds. We, the usurpers, your very own, from crowns of gold, with crowns of horns, we turn our thumbs down, we throw you to your death, we leave you for the lions, and cast you into the cold. And we place these words in your mouths: 'we thank you for your magnanimity'. You will have but stones to nourish yourselves and nothing but rags to cover your backs from the nuclear winds."