Both home late, neither sleep
As day breaks routine creeps
It was ours to break alone
Blank stare shared, love drained dry
Paired despair finalized
It was ours to break alone
They may have their way
But they can never take the truth you hold
Let them have their fun
They may want it more
But they've been told before to play nice
Let them have their fun
I've come to grips with this subconscious death wish
It holds me by the throat
Silent inner-violence coursing through my veins
And obviously this will never change
A ferocious display of blackened stoner-doom from Moscow's Moanhand, who offsets moments of bleak ugliness with clean, haunting melody. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 23, 2021