A requiem as intimate opera two obsessive spirits confess in counterpoint while pleading for rest. Voices Only I Can Hear turns riot into rite, fusing velvet rot, neon hush, and a relentless refrain that blurs ownership and imprisonment.
A bass baritone haunts a house from the inside out, turning silence into language as Gothic blues and pipe organ grandeur rise to a solemn catharsis. The song argues that memory survives even after the walls fall—a haunting framed as resonance rather than terror.
A gothic blues metal vigil at the window, this lament turns devotion into a haunting. With low, sorrow first vocals, ethereal responses, and a slow build from rain washed guitar to choir and strings, it meditates on memory, consent, and the mercy of letting go.
A blistering proto‑metal broadside where ignored warnings become policy. Fuzz soaked riffs, a commanding contralto lead, and vivid imagery of datafication and “electric prayer” drive an arc from dread to defiance—asking who owns the eyes, the records, and the truth.
A fuzzed proto‑metal broadside where warnings harden into laws, this lyric sheet tracks our drift from convenience to control and from sleep to defiance. The refrain turns the present into a rallying cry, ending with a communal ignition become the gasoline.
