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Bestia [An Exercise In Cowardice And The Evil Within]

by Pinturas Negras

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Intro 05:11
Time passes. I am alone. Seasons are no more in this dark space. I will die figureless. That is true. Forgotten, and my radiant friend will die before me. Voice-hearer radiates. Sole witness to whispers and blood magic. The ten will listen when I am no more.
Elektra 04:02
I am Elektra, the odd one out. Favourite breed of fear and doubt Broke all my masks to build them anew. Found solace in mismatch, again I stand true. Mad machine has spread the seed out from the vaults of hate and greed the spawn has said to me three times there’s no love lost inside these mines of salt and wasted time false brothers screening movies made for others dealing with barbaric virtue glass jaw breaks my thoughts converge in one last whisper: I’m a fighter, not a lover. I’ll be in conflict forever. Nosferatu profits from plague, The devil’s due now been paid. Furies have fled to Shangri-La. The patient has long since bled out.
25,000 days since that final meal and the ringing in our ears still hasn't stopped. Ghost bullet humming through the vacant seat of the voice of command. We are the unconscious, the promise unfulfilled. Manic modular, the divine incomplete. Hail modular, high on the cross. Death due to lack of interest. Hail modular sign of the cross. breathe for me, I name you chaos. Skipped by Prometheus, our fire ignited by others. met many of our parts in hospital beds. Leftover criminals, the people made barren. Composite memories of a time that never was. Former guardian of the first threshold, empty vessel screams anew. Finding freedom from processing lackluster events. Voices of the manic empire: Stand undivided. We are the many, many unclean, functional strangers with a mischievous grin. We are famine, we are machine. Soul, mud and ember fashion the mistake messiah My brain forgets being a machine as I forget my dreams.
Lord of Rats 03:51
Tale of ships, Lord of rats. Admiral Palindrome, Admiral Nothing. The role of a heretic in no man's land. Sheep's skin, Wolfsbane. Redefine your morality. The wheel spins, lets the seers see. Criminal Criminal Criminal Criminal Saint or martyr, come inside. I, the dog saint, welcome you, lost in wonder, time is eternal. Resonating in my insides, voices calling, their whispers leading me into the dark. Red eyes form correlations. Thieves and beggars, their veins are but imaginary lines, between the stars.
Bestia 06:12
In light casts no shade Hidden. In darkness dwells. Viene a beberse tu sangre, viene a quebrarse tus huesos. A crooked body, The imprint of a criminal. A thousand letters. Exquisite appetite. A crooked body invisible anywhere, Mediterranean demon, the hunter, the false prey. Enter the one whose scars are under the skin. Enter the one we never guessed. Enter the one whose blisters have turned to stone. Enter the monster. Bestia. (fiend) Animal inside. Bestia. (fiend) Mongrel born divine. Clawing deep from your insides, Palindrome sent you forth to die. Chalk statue, ghost in the machine. Be one in my army, avenge me. Molded in her strife, the master sufferer turns into a feral fiction Fascinating eyes, deadly retinae, cold air, take me. Watch it disappear behind the birds of prey, deception and purest violence Fall into its spell, scent is maddening, see it bleed for you. Viene a matar.
The calling of silk and snow, Trigger halt, as you hear static crackling in your ears. Textures bleached, blend into the sight of an anemic plain. The culling of all senses. Curtain falls. Let the mother choose what's good for you, ask not if it suits her too, as her whispers turn to haze. The walls seem transparent at first unwanted glance. No names to read in double mirrors. Chains that bind in shades of white, Shades that live, sing, suggest the makings of a solemn bow. Enjoy now the virtues of time unclear as you cloud your face in a veil of indifference unashamed Early chants and fluid words, early shapes our fluid world. At the slightest touch we see how blind eyes change us. The night after the fog froze, Radiant found an exit. Sound mine, silent scream, deep wells, holds of meaning . The ones left at the surface slaves to the sacred drone snowblind in silken film to their empty eyes the vault lies sealed Chanting from the marrow Listen to the nether
Snake 07:12
Awakened by your cry I drink the words, missed the pull on my strings, dearest Master. I wish it came more often, larynx smashed, designer skin. Trust me, I, the snake, at your service. Knowing, slither ambivalence Warpaint, to know all of my brothers, When to smile and when to betray. Shellshock served with a little drop of honey, trauma texture, protean taste. Controlling those who get too close and glimpse my thousand layers, vested interests turn irrelevant. Shedding skin, to change the rules of tomorrow. Shed your skin, Leave behind this empty shell. Lower brain governs the belief I follow. Come to me, welcome death today. Master, deafness will strike first. Numbness follows, the end becomes you.
Hatephase 03:31
Enter stage right, misdirection and the machine. Together at the end of Athena's deep sleep. The love of repetition has lessened a challenge into routine. Another morning in the zen of nothing new yet her fingers are pressing the keys just a little harder than necessary. Perfect teeth clench ever so slightly, the body begins to tense for no reason. Vision blurs as an invisible hand starts to choke her. No bruising, no pain. Once familiar gestures turn foreign, heavy and imprecise. No bruising, no pain, no anger, no fear. A drop of unjustified sweat trickles down her forehead. Any semblance of control is now completely lost. The love of repetition subsides when faced with what she feels now. And she is loving every second. Friction. Fuel. Fire. Creation. Going through a hatephase.
Murder 04:13
I could swear she is sitting across the room. I could swear her eyes tell truth, I could swear it's her, I know it way too well believe: I’m not obsessed, not obsessed, I am not obsessed. Am not obsessed with her laugh, her teeth, her tongue, her spit. The eyes, her smile, the eyes, her lies. They take me away from the arms of reality I falter again and it feels so wonderful. Mother murder writes the truth, bears words to fit her story, continues to ignore me. Mother murder writes the tale, spins facts to weave her web around, static drives away the sound. Mercy mother, I've failed, could not give up my grasp on her. Mercy mother, I feel my right to touch is now denied Penance giver, Above a king, the weaver. Balance shaper, Now come and destroy your maker. Mother mercy right this wrong: Give me bliss, leave me mindless. An eastern gambit levels the board. Mother murder makes us one, one pawn near the other, we will march along to her tune. Mercy to no avail, prayer left unanswered, I sing to all the damned. Mercy destined to fail, animal eternal, Wise man lost its will to speak.
Clandestine 05:57
A man was asked to wait for a useless gift someone else's name and crown. loose change, false smile. All in a sip from the iron goddess. Cut off the finger that squeezed the trigger, no use for it ever again. Your last phantom friend has fled from office, casting a vote for tolerance in the service of evil. Clandestine waits on the shoreline, foreigner out of time. Sins number one hundred and eight, he waits the return of those who drown. Clandestine waits on the shoreline, foreigner out of time. Mad man. Flying in a silicon dream. Turned claustrophobic from an outdoor pastime, wears his necklace from the inside. These wasted words an effort to find, a friend in hair-thin, razor-sharp lies. The making of one's next inferno, acceptance, compromise. Sunken ships are only eternal, like anchors clutch to their own time. Clandestine waits on the shoreline, foreigner out of time. My brain forgets being a machine as I forget my dreams.


released March 17, 2022

Music created and performed by Pinturas Negras.

Ricardo Pinto: guitars, bass, keys, percussion, vocals
André Lourenço: vocals
Marcelo Aires: drums, percussion, vocals

Recorded by Ricardo Oliveira at Stone Sound Studio on July 2017.
Mixed and mastered by Ricardo Pinto.
Artwork by Pinturas Negras and Tatiana Rosa.


all rights reserved



Pinturas Negras Portugal

Pinturas Negras is the band that ended the world.
Its written history has been pieced together from sources as varied as the menu of a long gone Chinese restaurant or the obituary section of a 19th century English newspaper.
The music is heavy. The words follow suit, crafting a sound not unlike the stranger side of MTV2 from twenty years ago.
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