1. |
Trails and Adders
06:23
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Three angles make up a triangle of candles.
With a seance of sacred smoke in the middle.
They invoke the spirits with potions and riddles
and ignite the night with mysteries kindle.
The summers stretch out and encompass the years
while compasses spin summits seem crystal clear.
The higher the ladder the finer the peak.
Until trails and adders gather around our feet.
Trails and adders gather around our feet.
Triangles run circles chasing paper squares.
With a harpoon they fix the moon in the cross hairs.
Sometimes the higher the climb the steeper the stairs
until trails and adders pile up in layers.
Trails and adders
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2. |
Blades and Ladders
04:15
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The air was crisp with crystals
Hair book marked the page of this young age.
Trust came with the dusk
And the trees sang with us.
But summoned by the calling road
We climb to pandemonium.
The house was dark and ominous
But optimism walked us in.
Hold on to the hope that the ladder leads you home.
Crazed sharp faces
Human shrapnel fire from room to room
As we float in our balloon.
A full moon orchestrates the notes
Sung in this air
As we peel another layer and move deeper in
Alarm bells ring
And in your hand you held a blade
And my youth began to fade.
This house that we once called a home
We've out grown.
So untie this fisher mans knot.
We swap the darkness for the night
And welcome the unknown.
Our shoes were full of toes and tears
As we swam through the cyclone.
We leave our prayers with the wind
For the one that we abandon
And climb the shaky steps to sanity to reach our asylum.
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3. |
365 Knuckles
05:33
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4. |
Alter for Allen
08:35
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I'm blown to pieces by this piece
it makes me want to find my feet
to spill my heart out through my teeth
and hear myself in every beat
it stings and barks and breaks my sleep
yet sings like Tibetan bells so sweet
and deep it sinks and builds a nest
where seeds are sown into my chest
to sweat the passion out through my skin
and paint the ceiling with the vapour
to crack this claustrophobic skull
and explode this point in all directions
the blue of the green is brown in the sun
and no hand feeds the worm in the skull
it speaks like water, life and lips,
love, sex, chains and wipes,
human thoughts, trees and truth,
visions, habits, soil and root.
holy supernatural extra brilliant kindness of the soul
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lamp Cork, Ireland
Lamp are a curious sort. Angular guitars, irregular timings, progressive rock sensibilities and monster riffs. Finding a
neat definition or genre with which to categorise the band is a challenging prospect.
The band create as sonically dense an output as possible through the use of low tunings and sub-octave guitar pedals. The resultant effect has come to be LAMP’s almost signature sound.
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