1. |
Pale Blue Light
09:00
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I have lost my shelter.
No bed to sleep in.
I will surrender.
Vermilion worn on my sleeve.
Nowhere I live do I know peace.
Restless, turning.
The end of everything.
Watching; waiting, leave.
The end always feels so near.
My home is spread like ashes.
I'm nowhere.
The only colors I see are red and gold,
I think about my death when I’m alone.
Sometimes, my sky glows in pale blue light
My fear will clutch the reins and hold tight.
I am a meteor burning up on entry
A stranger to the atmosphere
I am a satellite lost to the unknown
My love will keep you a prisoner like Kessler Syndrome
There is an end to everything.
It’s always drawing near
My home is fading faster.
Like embers, I’m nothing.
Always.
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2. |
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I sleep in a bed too small;
Writhing in a cold shell with shadowed walls.
I am a distant moon fading in orbit;
Retreat to a featureless void.
The nameless stars.
An empty box.
I've seen Laika's grave.
Vacate the room.
The nameless moons.
The empty space.
Blood vessels deprived.
Crushed in a vacuum.
Vacate the room.
I feel unloved.
I am.
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3. |
Vacancy
09:15
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I dreamt of a house;
Walls painted like sand,
Each room was filled with friends;
And time stood ever still.
My eyes will stay closed as long as it takes
To never be alone; to know I found my home.
Each ray of sun breaching the floor
Each stone unturned and lost joys
Stumbled through the dark for the last time
Scattered through the streets like the morning light
I know some things were never meant to be.
I know some friends I will see again only when I sleep.
I dreamt of a house;
Dust swelled through the light
Each room was bare and vacant
And time moved quicker still.
My eyes will stay closed as long as it takes
To fade into a gray and sink into a grave
Burn down all that reminds you of me
Meet me somewhere in another dream
I know some things were never meant to be.
I know some friends I will see again only when I sleep.
Everybody’s gone.
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4. |
Golden Claws
02:01
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5. |
Leo Minor
10:29
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We were born from August stars
Boarding vessels to take us somewhere safe
We were Voyagers crossing the shock
Free to drift into the chasm; to make the emptiness a grave
There are no signs of life; I am a dead star
My shadow leaves no trace; I am an afterthought
Three years may pass before I regain contact.
Two years are gone and I still don't belong.
I’ve let you all down.
Watching from the ground, nothing seems out of place
My love will stay locked shut; entombed under the house
Far up in the stratosphere, my home looks so small
When the air gets warm, I’ll retrace each step
I’m sorry to myself
I roam through lightyears.
I float past stars.
I am a black hole.
I am alone.
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6. |
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I wake up to sawdust in my lungs
I sleep in a makeshift bed on a cold floor.
A song of a thousand morning birds.
Take a breath and inhale the aura.
There is an end to everything.
I know everyone is somewhere else.
We could have held on for longer.
The deeper the field, the smaller I feel.
No dawn.
No sun.
A star in the dark.
An empty room.
The hallway.
A ribcage.
The missing shingles
An empty bed.
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7. |
Rapture
12:39
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I hear the sound of the triumph of rapture.
Lock arms so we can all die together.
Loved ones will sew our bodies below;
In shallow graves, rotting beneath the glowing moon.
I see the faces I was meant to trust reflect off my iris,
And I am afraid.
I know that the voices I cherish will blur my thoughts every night,
And I am afraid.
It's a dance; flutter soft and slow.
Look through me; there's a warm glow.
Come outside but don't look;
Everything we built has died.
They play the hymn mocking my loss;
Crushing my body.
I was a moth caught in the light of my friends.
I was a moth who will be left behind in the end.
Rapture has left me alone;
And I am afraid.
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Wounds of Recollection Atlanta, Georgia
Atlanta based solo artist, Wounds of Recollection, weaves bright bursts of black metal and crushing detours into doom metal
in between somber moments of shoegaze, emo, post-rock, and drone to fuel a sound inspired by loss, coming to terms with aging, and long-forgotten simpler times.
Formed in 2014.
Created and produced anonymously and independently.
... more
Wounds of Recollection recommends:
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My Misery is Carved Into the Flesh of This World
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My side project. DSBM, post-rock, slowcore, indie folk.
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