lyrics
Évanoui au petit matin de la couche des miens comme hier de celle des tiens, je ne me meus plus qu’en contre-jours et crépuscules. Vapeur de chair; omnisciente, impalpable. Mouroirs à bas rendements, fontaines de mort, assoupi à la lisière des mondes le bruit blanc de leurs cris d’aveugles s'y faisait murmure. J'y rêvassais d’une dernière pionce aux Marquises, joues baignées par la tiédeur des rayons d'un luisard à l'agonie. M'épaississant la couenne au ceinturon, infoutu d'être venin plus que contrepoison.
Vanished at dawn from my kinsfolk’s bed, as yesterday from your own kind’s one, I only peep out at backlights and dusks. A vapor of flesh; omniscient, ethereal. Low-yielding hospices, founts of death, drowsing at the edge of worlds the white noise of their blind men’s cries was turning into murmur. There, I was daydreaming of a last sleep in the Marquises, cheeks bathed by the lukewarm rays of a Sol at death’s door. Hardening my hind by the belt, incapable of becoming venom more than antidote.
Vanished at dawn from my kinsfolk’s bed, as yesterday from your own kind’s one, I only peep out at backlights and dusks. A vapor of flesh; omniscient, ethereal. Low-yielding hospices, founts of death, drowsing at the edge of worlds the white noise of their blind men’s cries was turning into murmur. There, I was daydreaming of a last sleep in the Marquises, cheeks bathed by the lukewarm rays of a Sol at death’s door. Hardening my hind by the belt, incapable of becoming venom more than antidote.
credits
from Punir,
released March 1, 2019
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all rights reserved
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Throatruiner Records Nantes, France
A record label founded in 2009 & based in western France.
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