Graves Among The Roots

by Elder Devil

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flightoficarus (Metal Trenches)
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flightoficarus (Metal Trenches) The Chariot vibes are strong with this one. That sludgy opening trudge of bass and drums with the screamed prose is pure Josh Scogin. Elder Devil have taken a sound I deeply missed and cranked up the RPM's double. The vocals are vicious razorblade-filled pipe bombs exploding in rapid sequence, and the instrumentation is an overclocked, mechanized orgy of noise. "I have stared into the abyss...and it will keep staring back!" Favorite track: Speechless.
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released May 11, 2017

Music by Jacob. Lyrics and vocals by Stephen.

Art by Ethan Lee McCarthy.

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Elder Devil Fresno, California

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Track Name: Deep Vices
A first word on our vices. Deep and penetrating, this life we lead is nothing but sin. Surrounded by sin, baptized and paralyzed by sin. It demands a separation, a cleansing and renewal. It demands a land where winter frost touches lips before the ground; where the Sun’s warmth blesses skin with every summer’s day; where autumn’s purpose lies in her harvest; where spring brings forth a new beginning. We need these beginnings.
Track Name: The Collected
Fuck tradition. We need believers lined up for miles, striking out past the isles. Truth never rang in their ears so be gone their blasphemies. Crawl toward a new dawn, somewhere beyond their errant siren song. Baptize a new day in the mud that cakes our feet and keep walking so truth and civilization meet. May God stop what stains our sheets. Move beyond the individual. Come together, dear people so that similar minds may rid this filthy world. A new colony begun under the birth of not one bastard, not one spoiled blood, but one of pure meaning, soon to be weaning. Throw maps into the same mud that cakes our blackened feet. There will be no return to those lands. Cut at the wrist and sever spiteful hands.
Track Name: New Gods
It takes sacrifice to begin anew. Parchment makes His presence real as blood blesses the pew. To begin the first hunt is to name a first child. To have them know nothing of starvation and barren fields. Limbs pull from green and blood soaks our clothes. A new god demands penance in the mud. Adam meets Eve of the forest while songs of prayer reach bleated chorus. Blasphemy borne of the bark. Writhe against the roots. We are tied to the land as roots to the dirt. A life made real by the nature of bliss while we breathe in fits of sweat and moss. Tell us not of previous loss. Tell us not of this albatross. Blessed be these smells of sweat and moss.
Track Name: After Flesh
Oh, great harmony! Of dancing planets and changing tides, I have answered nature’s requests and brought its proper tithes. All is here with this great earth so fill your mouths with its soil and pack your eyes with dirt. This great land, it whispers to me. Do you hear its hushed words clear as day? What began as mortal blood is so much more. You speak of flesh. What of bark? What is life without the cold and dark? Do you see this as a choice? I speak of an end to pain; I speak with no voice. I feel the end of suffering. I see the creeping blight. I smell each drop of spite. I have no need for sight. I touch cold blood in the night.
Track Name: Speechless
They say climb back into Satan’s womb. Feel its warmth, a verdant tomb. These thoughts weigh like stones upon my chest. I’ve had trouble breathing before but this is too much. Those who retreat into its deep embrace become something more than we ever have tried to be. Something born not pure but which watches us bleed. I have plumbed the depths of Romans, of John’s last words on the Lord’s death, but I find no solace; I fear these roots make us one. They will come to see the violence of their decisions as moss fills their mouths and chokes their ignorant throats. Repent! I have stared into the abyss and it will keep staring back. Lost to history, hymns of misery, bear these gifts to me.
Track Name: Needless
What’s left after all of this? After the last skull has been cracked? After the last bone lies broken on a bed of leaves? Pity those innocents that died for something that they loved greater than themselves. Pity those forested acres that laughed at these horrible times. We place our Book next to their spilled marrow and dream about what could have been. Now I know why the cartographer is damned; now I know why we are slaves to this land; now I believe those visions that perverted young minds. Bond with the rot and let your blood clot. Dig our graves among those sullen roots. We shall never see the glow of the moon through the leaves, of a life outside these trees. These trespassers will die the same way as their lord: bleeding, starved and deserving of more. At the end they’ll pray for those times when sun could warm their skin and frost could cool those burning flames. The end is where we begin. We are better. We are one. Collected be damned. Needless and done.