Exercises in futility

by Mgła

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brazilianjonesss
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brazilianjonesss The revival of black metal, simple as that, doesn’t need many words, a true masterpiece Favorite track: Exercises in futility V.
moax-j
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moax-j I am floating in your music. If I had to describe determination, genius, honesty, devotion, soul and pure feeling to a Mars resident, I would play this record. Dziękuję z całego serca za muzykę !!

Indeed the riff in II 1:29.... wow. Favorite track: Exercises in futility II.
yzn3rf
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yzn3rf Needed a couple of play throughs to really kick in. But hell, does it kick in now!
The 1:26 riff in "II" has me regularely tearing up, because it is just so beautiful! The music seems to go from my ears right into my guts. Favorite track: Exercises in futility II.
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1.
The great truth is there isn't one And it only gets worse since that conclusion The irony of being an extension to nothing And the force of inertia is now a vital factor And there is despair underneath each and every action Each and every attempt to pierce the armour of numbness Burning bridges becomes a habit to support And the front line expands like there's no tomorrow I envy the maggots Their stuff at least sticks together Better than laudations of misinformed seers And those are lengthy annals of shame that we work with It's like dumping dead meat at the brink of Styx With a barge that we made of what was left of Yggdrasil After veterans of spiritual revolts were done with their armchairs And I don't even remember which brink is which The odour of sanctity is just refined stench of existence Shining pearl of Augeas' crown pales in comparison And there is despair underneath each and every action Each and every attempt to pierce the armour of numbness Burning bridges becomes a habit to support And the front line expands like there's no tomorrow The grotesque eagles of misfortune, well fed on thanatos, sit still It's the dignity of scavengers at the ever growing garbage dump of life There is something about the rigid posture of a proper, authentic blind As if extended arms reached to pass his blindness on to others
2.
There is a style in total denial A certain elegance of fear Hesychasm is so much convenient With the desert within ourselves Stray dogs lead disciples of Oedipus As the shrouds gently cover Exquisite paroxysms of ruin And well mannered choking on nothingness Nether The cracks in soma, psyche and pneuma Are as one way mirrors It's one well lit desert And the pyres extend beyond the horizon And cold flames flicker upon ashes of hope Through hallways carved in a crystal On to the uttermost parts of the pit Jostling through cadavers of former selves You would swear there's amusement in the eyes of the dead Again, nether A reward for the perseverant: Unceasing howling of the heart Bound to walk this path Nether, again, nether - now and forever I wish it was classic fire and brimstone But clearly there is a very special plan Paved with havoc and shattered virtues As if there were any other paths With every dream The pyres grow taller An enemy of trust A misled scholar Stray philanthrope In vain endeavor Walk this path Now and forever
3.
We hold an honorary degree in natural science For stratigraphy of rock bottom The layers were aplenty, as above, so below But mostly below The research is vast, thorough and firsthand And it's a broad array of sources For the complete guide to spiritual asshole of the world A tour in words, sounds and pictures Of the true south of nadir Through burial grounds for broken dreams and crippled souls The graves are shallow We would dig them up with our bare hands Just to rise above for a split second And see them basked in the light of a dead sun Beneath the sky of shit And then take notes Meticulously We would consume deathbed confessions Create a language of fading words For this night is without end We would compute dynamics of grief And logic of venom, and we would listen As history is written on cold skin of prophets With vulture claws soaked in rat saliva For this night is without end
4.
Some are born without a purpose Other than prolonged demise in ornate ways Most of the time it's pathetic, quick and useless And good neighbours don't bother digging up the graves It's rows upon rows of kings, whores and pawns And the storm is rolling The vengeful and the bitter reach out for their fix Rebels never realized that their angst was a mockery Every empire Every nation Every tribe Thought it would end In a bit more decent way It is an unlikely alliance of assorted failures Various degrees of deceit, doomsday prophets The clenched teeth, the vinegar down the veins A stylish pit right next to Judas, Brutus and Cassius Every empire Every nation Every tribe Thought it would end In a bit more decent way Every prophet Every ruler Every seer Will chew on this ruin And repeat ad nauseam
5.
Blessed be the tailors The masks are cut to fit Blessed be the woodworkers The crosses and the gallows Blessed be the forgers of iron And the spikes and the barbwire Blessed be the stone cutters It took a quarry to bury the dreams Blessed be the misery, the filth, the discord and the horror Blessed be the lies, the guilt, the fear, the woe and the betrayal For these ones didn't need any outside source For these ones come from within And here it is Grown from within An invincible stronghold Adorned with death A suit of shining armour Replaced the skin And calligraphed sins Are as coat of arms Hollow
6.
As if you didn't know how it feels to lose As if you didn't know how it feels to lose at dice with fate At least have some dignity As if it wasn't a lifetime spent on connecting the dots There was no pattern As if the irony was more than a defense mechanism And we could actually laugh for a change As if steel hooks in our backs were more than a nuisance And we could actually feel something Self crucified – missed the right tree Tore the wrong eye out The hissing of hellfire Self crucified – missed the right tree For this I have gained a victory I burn as I ought to As if everything was to be made right one day Dreams don't come true for people like us As if the gods were bored with peace in our hearts And their fingers are itchy As if we never broke people out of sheer boredom And slept calmly among the wastes And then we see bright and clear As if we would be someone else While mindlessly wandering through the mountains As if we would be someone better Expelling purgatory in Latin alphabet Self crucified – missed the right tree Tore the wrong eye out The hissing of hellfire Self crucified – missed the right tree For this I have gained a victory I burn as I ought to As if all this was something more Than another footnote on a postcard from nowhere Another chapter in the handbook for exercises in futility

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CD/LP by Northern Heritage / No Solace 2015.
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www.no-solace.com
www.northern-heritage.net

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released September 4, 2015

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Mgła Kraków, Poland

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