Burrow from Sepulcher by Infant Island

Truly unsettled, I alone withhold a form or shadow. Feast of flesh and self, 'til limitless potential gratifies cold, yet fluid aberrations; swarming among a stream, infecting. Dissect to undo. Renewal of my grandest fears.

Burrow a hollow frame, a home
Burrow or swallow, an age forlorn
Burrow a hollow fate, in stone

True forms renewed within shadow.
Futility to be fed on a shell called life.
An etched scar to be bled among timeless echoed blight, all to be resurfaced.
Resurface, resurface, resurface.

Still living, still waiting, still craving.
More than their lies, more of the sky.

• Metal
• black metal
• hardcore
• post-metal
• post-rock
• screamo
• Fredericksburg