Recorded at The Kraken Productions by Matic Mlakar
Mix and mastered by Buster Odeholm
lyrics
Blurry and faint,
a draught mixed
with a sinister presence.
This fate is overkill.
The constant shiver down the spine,
as you subtly intertwine the terror
you would think you've brought me.
I'll soon confide the reason
you'll be wasting seasons by my side.
Hard to swallow pill, open wide,
Amygdaloid reaper hi.
Take a seat or you can stand,
you're curious and I'm taking command.
Been shadowing for months,
neck-deep and you still know zip.
You're a reaper not a creep.
Let’s discuss my decadence as if beyond the sky.
An avant-garde decay into blue irrelevance.
Starbirth, just another star in a limitless sandbox lets say.
Just there, dimmer and stale and still.
So frail…
Here comes the nova.
A wave of "Hey, I'm still here",
by a thinning thread I might fear.
Can't earn a praise if you can't
raise the sheep their ways.
Conform, adapt and make waves,
how many struggles that saves.
Maybe not in this generation,
as a supernova lights the dark,
I'll be praised for what is left behind.
Past!
the time alive,
the work became a famed memento of suffocation described, that's why.
A black hole after a star dies
is feared for it's magnitude of influence,
as truth and lies don't change it's size.
Went so grim the reaper wants to cheer me up,
but wait...
Came out legs first with a knot around the neck,
you're haunting a dead man walking.
Forever stuck on the fucking gallows.
Nothing was ever needed reaper, in my view.
Look, the system has probably replaced you.
6 months of creating, 6 days of contemplating
and 6 minutes of aching.
A man can drown in hope and from there it's a slippery slope.
Instead of ears there are scopes on the eyes,
for the love of the decent,
nowadays you have to look to listen.
And most never did. Was always recent.
Ever thought we might be the same 'cause,
you're outta job, do you need a pause?
Can't even pose as a 666,
an old trick so fucking cringe it gives me ticks.
I know you've never touched my mind.
It's time to realize my brain's not fine. Inside,
I feel the hate and the sadness 'bout to burst,
watch me disintegrate into the wind first.
It's going on and on and on.
Changing shapes, turning into songs.
All just a play, nothing in the way (wa-ay)
I can't believe there's now some I reach!
Mixed with the dust
mixed with the sand
between the seas and the skies now stranded.
In dictionary the word limitless,
haunt the liar (who) put it there I guess.
Unsanguine core,
unsoiled and pure as you're whooshing in almost silence.
Still guided by the same thoughts you left with.
In the same tune of chosen solitude.
Terrified the reaper is gone.
Left his robe on the floor.
An opened closet door.
What do the bones form?
supported by 9 fans who also own “Of Man & The Amygdaloid Reaper”
I am more a melodeath guy than deathcore, but I enjoy all the symphonic elements or rythym changes. This album is a BLAST omg my neck hurt, so much headbang🤘🤘 olive855
supported by 7 fans who also own “Of Man & The Amygdaloid Reaper”
This short EP kinda sums up my whole outlook during 2020: Exhausted, hopeless*, & a constant oppressed feeling; but too goddamn determined to give up like a bitch & instead to do whatever the fuck it took to emerge from it stronger, no matter what.
Mission Accomplished & I say with a snarl, "Fuck you COVID!"
Also, my cat Wraith just LOVES it when I sing along to Insurmountable, though the main bit should have been sang 2x instead of 1. VenoMal1c3
supported by 6 fans who also own “Of Man & The Amygdaloid Reaper”
First WTF was google music actually throwing something good into my feed.
Second WTF was everything every goddamn member of this band does. This and the previous album have been on repeat for weeks. All other music tastes like diet water. Help. Gruso