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Tormentor

by Elder Devil

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1.
Darkened halls and quiet rooms. Basement of little light. Staircase descending, smell of mold. Dust holds the hinges tight. The latch rusted, painted over. Words spoken but not heard. Words written but not read aloud. Changes must be made to live. Atonement and annihilation. Make human these hands. Build again into creation.
2.
Survivor’s guilt, the pain of existence. The knob turns, the boards creak. A figure wrapped in plastic. Face obscured. The ends of the rope they finally meet. The smell of burned flesh fills the air. The rotten look of scars beyond repair. His hands, peeling and tearing. The hands wrapped in tight plastic. The blade sharp, its cuts deliberate. The hinges whine. The plastic pulls. The only conclusion? Life is cruel. That skin of pain, those endless cries. Staring deep into the serpent’s eyes. What is covered must remain. What is revealed, not contained. Plastic hands, sharp blade, show me the way. Show me the way.
3.
Plastic-wrapped face. Deep breaths, satiate. Killer of virtue. Mask of cruel fate. The face of menacing dread. No eyes that see. All movement can be heard. Black gloves, sharp blade. Hearing the scrape. Watching falling glass. Crawling down a hall that never seems to end. A throat made red. Footsteps behind. Fear his designs. Deep cut, red line. The deepest red line. If such people truly exist, then where is God in this?
4.
The desert through the void’s door. That land of sand and rock. That place where thirst goes to thrive. That land that time forgot. Markers of infamy. Embarrassment of life. Warnings from the other side. Not that far removed. No hope, life consumed. That place isn’t so far. It stretches beyond the pale door. Endless miles of salt- encrusted shores. That terrible sun upon your back. Retracing steps through beads of sweat. I don’t know what you hope to find. Nothing but silence and the drip of time. In that void.
5.
Blood red, shattered mirrors. Close enough to smell. Whites of eyes and locks of hair. What story does the body tell? Portrait of death, do you speak? Do you stare with longing? Streetlights cut through shadows so stark. Primal fear and nervous remarks. An end to life, comes at night. Stifled screams. Window glass, shattered panes. White carpet, red stains. Human canvas soaked in paint. No fate. Straight razor leads the way. Too late. Straight razor lead the way.

about

Songs written in late 2019.
Recorded and mixed by Jacob Lee in Winter 2022.

8/10 - Heavy Pop

credits

released December 30, 2022

Mastered by Will Killingsworth at Dead Air Studios.
Cover art by Marcio Blasphemator.

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Elder Devil Fresno, California

EVERYTHING WORTH LOVING out now on Prosthetic Records.

Stephen Muir | Vocals
Jacob Lee | Guitars
Pete Ruacho | Drums, Noise
Ryan Urquidez | Bass

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