Dreams, clinging to these sheets through fevers oh so forceful,
It cloys in spite of sigils round my neck,
These visions come from figures starched and copper,
Their words a harsh duet.
A holy cacophony,
The Sulfur sings...
Dimmest spark,
Pull your weight,
A Choral Forecast;
Calls alate.
Tended spark,
Cause a clash,
The Choral Forecast chants:
‘Become the itch to life's ash’
Cloaked in linen, sufficient, the fair theurgist,
Though these hooded features appear soft, they belie a knowledge hardest fought,
My powers known to many!
A god blessed logo, protects my figure,
The need for self-improvement, a dull light lingers,
A repertoire of salted psalms, whitest whispers.
Holy cacophony,
The Sulfur’s singing goes on and on…
(Chorus)
Tears fall from eyes,
Urging for strength,
Bearing such a piercing pressure,
Haunted by an immense measure.
Save me…
Crushed, unearthly potence,
Feel the dread scorch blasting me,
I'm unstitched, a shattered gleam.
Save me…
So they stand, showing me, what could be,
Holy cacophony, the Sulfur sings…
(Chorus)
Sparks, can lead the way,
Sparks, when ignited clash to lead the way.
These California up-and-comers don't merely pay tribute to ’90s death metal; they make it their own by taking charge and letting it rip. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 21, 2024