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Halt your confessions, for the wilderness watches your penance The piety of self-flagellation leads you to the doorstep of the witch A fire in the woods is nothing to the black that encroaches eternal In the sickly glow of the candle, fat and bone of infants becomes fuel Like churned butter, entrails coat the outline of a demon A babe condemned to ceaseless flame The smell of hops hides blood and melting bone Her languid shape suckles from the sheep, smearing crimson cross ivory wool Fetid milk, nourishment to feast the familiars on the blood of the labia The raven’s jaw mutilates grieving breast Break his jaw, tear out his teeth An orgasm of prayer, an expulsion of life You were always so fucking proud And now entombed in your arrogance you lie There is no wolf, just defiance The satyr’s gift is upon me, and I soar up to the moon in the company of my sisters And I am free Look deep into the reptilian eye of the crone, and see only exuberance
Dying but not recognised As you shivered, I did not I only saw you bloated and off-colour A wax doll, soon to be ablaze These streets your streets. Residue. So much left to share. Residue. Constricting and biting This frigid leeching doom Deprived of sweet prosperity Bitter sickness blooms Your own handiwork now marks your grave The wine infiltrating the earth A canvas remains unpainted The marble remains unsculpted Shivering residue But I own my wounds
How in a so-called modern country is a baby found dead in her mother’s arms Choked of clean air in the corridor, as the blaze devastates your domain Cyanide veins and a stillborn, a casket two-hundred feet high They are woken to flee but better left asleep Now they die panicked and screaming in a tomb You call it an eyesore? What of charred and blackened skin? What of bodies strewn round the tower, riddled with trauma and broken bone? The flame tears through the outskirts, your gleaming plastic facade A conflagration of timber and the flesh of undesirables How do your investments look these days? Sociopaths and charnel scavengers, a coven of leeches feeding on decay Years of greed and complacency conspire, efforts to hide those on which they prey The husk still casts a shadow, its ashes sicken the air Hold a torch to the leech and its gorged body bursts, the others scatter in fear
Your breath is wasted here from the very first that you take You would do well to stifle it from the start Crucified but denied martyrdom For any futile cause, for the womb ties all in thrall Your kin cannibalize and consume all but dust Yet are consumed by the sand that buries and cuts Slashing through skin but drawing no blood As it all it reveals is an empty promise Locked in this linear cage Confined and incarcerated by walls shrouded by oppression Seemingly in reach but truly cold in their distance A promise to never let you even graze salvation A dawn devoid of light and an end slipping into dusk They widen as they approach their close, a promise of black tranquillity And yet all in-between is turmoil and toil And the skulls that line your path Encased in a crypt that perpetually fills but never grows And as a gaze turns skyward swaying shapes come into focus Miles of hanging bodies strung like gutted pigs Their necks broken in exquisite jutting shapes As they drift like silent stars in a night sky


Initial offering of melancholia, bile and morbid fascinations from black/doom duo, Void Tendril.
Released on cassette by Rat King Records.
Produced and Engineered by J.L.
Mixed/Mastered/Re-amped by Dan Lowndes at Resonance Sound Studios.
Artwork/Logo/Layout by Unknown Relic/Stephen Wilson.

Cassettes available at ratkingrecordsuk(dot)bigcartel(dot)com


released September 15, 2017

J.L. - Guitars, Bass, Synths, Additional Vocals
P.H. - Vocals, Drums.


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Black/doom duo hailing from the UK.

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