Hailstorm
Hard as granite
Large as fists
Heavy as guilt
On our arid skin
It rolls
Shaking off the dust
Of the ways
We did not walk
We did not see
It shapes the grimaces
Our faces bear
Oh how wretchedly
We gargoyles persist
With our wings
Set in stone
And the water
You heavens
Force through our mouths
It nourishes only our wrath
While we had looked over
This godless town
We have seen days end
And nights unravel
Taverns arise from cemeteries
We’ve seen it all
And we’ve grown so old
Now we may only await our doom
Await our doom
The Belgian band explore heavy psych, tribal rhythms, free-jazz freakouts, meditative drone and the vast, shadowy spaces in between. Bandcamp Album of the Day Jun 22, 2020