1. |
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.
|
||||
2. |
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.
|
||||
3. |
Manic Modular
06:24
|
|||
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.
|
||||
4. |
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.
|
||||
5. |
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.
|
||||
6. |
House of Fabric
05:43
|
|||
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
|
||||
7. |
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.
|
||||
8. |
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.
|
||||
9. |
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.
|
||||
10. |
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.
|
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.
... more
Streaming and Download help
Pinturas Negras recommends:
If you like Pinturas Negras, you may also like: