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n archive bomb When I open my eyes I am afraid to see, because everything I see becomes a part of me So I will close my eyes and lay down to the silent ground and look like my own statue Till all I see becomes a sound. Who thought that we would fall apart and how should I’ve known? I will be Forever yours. I am afraid to touch you, when you lay next to me, since everything I touched Made me regret and disagree. So I will seek an ocean to be found in the flood, give up all my resistance till all I feel becomes a sound. Who thought that we would fall apart and how should I’ve known? Forever yours. The Fountain Again, you crushed my face into the soil you call space You’ve torn me apart, you shred me, you said everything consists on belief I believe that I will rise up again; I confess, for me life equals pain You tear me apart you stomp me to pieces until I am liquid, so small I am liquid. Water can move, but it cannot rise, rise from the ground, how dare you look me straight in the eyes and say: From equal ground you became a mountain, from far our valley sounds like a fountain, blood fountain. And I bleed while you are the leech on my wounds, and I doubt that you can be removed. You tear me apart you stomp me to pieces until I am liquid, so small I am liquid You took my believes, so I cannot stand up, unable to breathe, I will not give up. Water can move, but it cannot rise, rise from the ground, how dare you look me straight in the eyes and say: From equal ground you became a mountain, from far our valley sounds like a fountain, blood fountain. Suppress My box is full and reeks of pride. There seems to be a leak inside, it’s running empty time to time. I own things that don’t feel like mine. The seed I was has grown a tree, my feet are roots my thoughts are leaves. Still everything that I possess desert me when the leaves turn red. Maybe all remains like this, just the sight alone makes me sick. I search new sparks endlessly, to wake me up. All this content that I craved, it breaks the box, it frees the wave. I want myself reduced to me – and like what I see. To wake me up... Break my face my life, find the flaws in my design. Cut away my eyelids so I, I’ve waken up. When I say you stay, you stay. Passions leaving anyway. When I say you stay, you stay. I burn the box entirely to resurrect me. When I say you stay, you stay. Just to see a shape for me to fill. When I say you stay, you stay. Surpass The creators hand leads your actions, illusions are nothing less than perfection Ties around the necks will never hang low, still you are misled to adore it all. I left a day to recreate, you’ve got the time, invent yourself, create my self until the break of day and rearrange yourself, make gold from clay. Inside a homeless mind are hands to weak to break the sky. It’s all about surpassing the ways of all your teachers and parents. You’ll never get my style as long as you are blind. Meanwhile... Behold. Could the creator be king instead? Ain’t the culprits eyes all empty and dead? Consider... are ancient things to be replaced? Pray, get yourself a soul and some open space. I left a day to recreate, you’ve got the time, invent yourself, create my self until the break of day and rearrange yourself, make gold from clay. Inside a homeless mind are hands to weak to break the sky. I left a day to recreate, you’ve got the time, invent yourself, create my self until the break of day and rearrange yourself, make gold from clay. Inside a homeless mind are hands to weak to break the sky. It’s all about surpassing the ways of all your teachers and parents. You’ll never get my style as long as you are blind. Meanwhile... (nothing) End this Why do I always turn away of what I am supposed to be? An image tasted so heavenly. An image turned so blue to me. Why can I not sketch out a scheme of a guy I could see myself in? Every stroke can be retraced, but paper burns so easily. Drinking from a broken glass, to feel, to taste, to smell the mess. Rather desperate to keep the pages; a cocktail of my life I guess. Where will my path eventually guide me? Grey snow licks my diary. A curtain of fire devours the letters, spitting my entity back on me. There’s no easy way to restart, no button to replay, dreams and wishes of the past have just a small corner to stay. I will someday maybe understand, that fresh blood can only leave me through a new gap. Drinking from a broken glass, to feel, to taste, to smell the mess. Rather desperate to keep the pages; a cocktail of my life I guess.

Tja, erst hatten wir keinen Termin, jetzt gleich zwei. Und dieser liegt uns ganz besonders am Herzen, da wir diesesmal vor heimischen Publikum in der Ibbenbürener Scheune spielen dürfen. Mit uns kommen Fluid Enc aus Bielefeld und die zweiten Lokalmatadoren, die Wicked Sideburns. Ihr wisst also was euch erwartet, verpasst es nicht!

Wir sind zu Gast bei Os Radio und geben ein kleines Interview im Rahmen der Promotour für unsere Record Release Party. Also Volume auf 10 und abgehn!