The Pangs of our Covenant

by Black Urn

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1.
05:08
2.
3.
4.
06:25

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All Songs Written by Black Urn
Recorded/Mixed Spring 2016 by Brad Wallace in Philadelphia
www.bradwallacerecording.com
Mastered by Brad Boatright at Audioseige in Portland
Design/Layout by Noia Illustration

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released June 10, 2016

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all rights reserved

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Black Urn Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

5-piece doom/sludge band based in Philly.

For any inquiries contact blackurn187@gmail.com

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Track Name: Bushmaster
Move stones from the altar
I was born of folklore
gestation
within the combustion of stardust
in John the Baptist’s dreams.

Courted by whispering darkness
as a stumbling fawn.
Snatch the cricket from the
palm of the drywall

Vestigial, stigmatic limbs
Sworn to you, I carry out your will

A mole enslaved
in a kingdom of dirt
and worm gods

The sky hisses
in retaliation
as Pangea-teeth
molds the void
launch into the raindance
silos give forth
their bastard litter
When destiny comes to fetch me,
I’ll be waiting,
with the head of my father in hand.
Track Name: Spindle of Spines
This is
a prayer
to
to Zoltar:
Do we
slowly edge towards
the brink
or it towards us?

Stare out to the sea
renounce
your deities

Tonight and forever,
this bullet is a gateway
that will unchain me
from this anchor of a life.
Thwart not the traveler.
Restless in my flesh,
released, slit by glass encasement

years pass
only for the sky to part
and in response
my entreatment’s echo

sealed to the ancients
cycle cessation

I learned nothing
do not resurrect me
Track Name: Starved by Faith
The corpse of Caesar is hurtled
off Mount Sinai’s edge,
into the starving hands
of fucking pariahs;
gnawing through golden, silk robe
woven by your pawns.

Babylon will burn tonight
Doused with head-refreshing, precious oil

Et tu?

Manicured nails rip throne cushion
like a cat in a coward’s reluctance,
strikes the final hour.
Come sit before Anubis.
Delorian Gray unveils his masterpiece
Screaming souls bound within a marble bust

Temples cleansed and bleached
Heavens boil. Messiahs called out

Et mihi.

Empty churches/capitols:
the fecal decomposite of hair and bones,
of mankind’s feeble attempt
to stop the sun from setting.
sic semper
tyrannus.
Track Name: 40 Devils
Gestation
floods with vinegar
gypsy hand
climbs soft spine
through skin our kin
intertwine

Sound surrounds
the fetal orobori.
Parastic
cryptophasia:

“When you’re
called from the void
you’ll awaken feasting on your flesh
hanging
by a thread
over a million teeth.

Til the day I climb out your ribcage
and blossom from the nectars of your marrow”

Fall down the stairs.

Lakshmi and Krishna are dying inside me.