1. |
The Blackest Of Hearts
02:16
|
|||
|
I will arrive,
Once I am done gathering the pieces left from past transgressions.
I hold the end in my arms,
And the rest shuffles into the wind.
What have I become?
Lead by a heart blacker than the sins of priests.
Darker than the thoughts of men on the edge of bestial endeavors.
Have you gazed upon its writhing, corpulent spasms?
Is this why you've fled into the coldness of the outside world?
My own aura makes me shudder as I climb this massive mountain with rocks like scales and soil like the flesh of a great beast.
The more I climb the higher the water rises.
This is where my black heart has led,
This is where no one will find me.
And this knife shall deliver me into the jaws of infinity.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
You could have been.
Once encased within my embrace.
You could have ruled.
I write these words on parchment meant for the gods.
I will burn, ashes consumed with broken breaths.
Signs have been begged for.
Fatigue has set in, I have no more reasons for apathy.
I suppose I am fully to blame.
For lying to myself.
I said I’ve given you up.
Memories stir at the bottom of our ocean.
The waves consumed our past.
I said I loathed you, despised you, all in the name of absolution.
But I still wait here atop this ravine.
Waiting to swan dive into oblivion.
Open wounds glisten from the blinding light of the grey skies.
I just want this to be over.
Quiet, clear, alone.
Without tears and under slivers of moonlight.
With darkness to hide my shadow-self.
I want to stop creating more wounds in hope that you find your way out of my quintessence.
I want to jump.
Wash away from this ravine, these memories.
Alone.
Never to be stirred by whispered voices.
Never a memory.
Just a dour afterthought.
|
||||
3. |
||||
4. |
Descending Through Fire
04:15
|
|||
|
I must confess.
The sour smell of your lies is intriguing.
Tell me you’ll never let me go, and I’ll tell you stories of hopes and dreams that wrinkle towards the end.
Include me in your starlight memories and I’ll come drenched in kerosene, glistening in the autumnal fire.
With every word I fall deeper into your gaze.
Sorcery such as this, inane but final.
Final as the truth emblazoned amongst the pale light of the pyre in your irises.
But I will not go alone.
One embrace from me and together the lines are blurred.
Is this a daunting reality?
Or the succumbing of our essence being swallowed into the mouth of Euronymous?
Together we’ll bleed.
And the best part…
I can still taste you on my tongue.
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Empty streets fill my mind
Autumn has come to numb me blind
The end it reaches out for me
My soul still calling to be free
I want the energy to breathe, to clear their poisoned minds
The energy I am, to end their pointless lives
|
||||
6. |
Chasing Leviathan
03:03
|
|||
|
Severed strings of liberation.
Desolation coalesced into
ever’long deprecated embraces.
Faces frozen within plutonium dreams.
The remains of night given requiems
as callous judgments convey cynicism.
We hail!
En Memoriam for cleansing.
In black holes we've become
entrenched,
chasing Leviathan through
white amorphous heaven.
Burning pneumas explode when
the limelight turns red.
Swept away,
we've parlayed.
Encompassing all of our past
disdain.
Rain washes away our ashen,
caustic teratisms.
We give the 3rd degree in quantities.
Bleak hope of understanding,
but all in dismay.
We carry over into our
world’s beyond one shred
of cogent reality…
…someday this will be over.
…The end will burn through.
…There is a last time for everything.
And with our demise we shall
recompense to this Earth.
While we all swim in open veins.
|
||||
Adam Delia
ADAM DELIA was born and raised in California’s Central Valley but then relocated to a small, coastal Bay Area town as an adult. His childhood consisted of copious amounts of horror films on VHS, horror fiction/nonfiction books, playing the guitar and endless dreaming of combining the three when adulthood came knocking. Visit Adam @ www1985AD.net ... more
If you like Adam Delia, you may also like:
crookhollow and variations
by poor horse
An intimate (and instrumental) improvised solo guitar meditation on the vastness of the unknown, from the Appalachian mountains.
go to album
Sorry I'm So Sensitive
by Bea Stewart
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 26, 2024
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 19, 2024
go to album
Six and Forty-Six
by Riccardo La Foresta & James Ginzburg
Percussionist and sound artist Riccardo La Foresta joins musician and producer James Ginzburg for a fluid collaborative experiment.
go to album
The Room
by Fabiano do Nascimento & Sam Gendel
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jan 9, 2024
go to album
Stirring Americana set to acoustic arrangements and topped by the legendary Alice Gerrard’s lovely, world-wise voice.
go to album
