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06:43

about

All music written by Sanctify the Serpent 2012 - 2016

credits

released March 22, 2016

Recorded and mixed by Trent Thomas at Soviet Outpost Studios

Mastered by Jamie Marinos and Lance Prenc at Half Moon Productions
www.facebook.com/Half-Moon-Productions-727300737359209/

Artwork by Nicholas Magliarditi

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Sanctify the Serpent Hobart, Australia

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Track Name: A Metaphysical Western
A Metaphysical Western

Awake, the gargoyle’s stone skin fractures.
An inner struggle crumbles the ancient encasement,
exposing bare flesh and newborn eyes.
As they open for the first time, they are blinded.
So the mind creates visions, whilst through a valley of infinite suns Illuminated kaleidoscopic fractal spirals in perpetual rotation,
assuming no set form.
The Archaeopteryx wanders, believing it is witness to the living, dramatic play of existence:
From archaea, to mould, to mushroom.
It discovers success as a worm until it plucks itself from the dirt as a bird. As an ape, it fears not the snake, until it is bitten on the face, and tumbles from the treetops.
It devours its own decaying carcass as a dog.
It staggers through the astral desert, intoxicated on illusion.
It trains the fire to slowly destroy its master.
It births the child.
It drinks of the blood and semen.
It gathers gold, It poisons the water.

It slaughters and obliterates. It rapes and it masturbates.
Worship the snake the Archaeopteryx justifies it’s self-imposed situation by creating grand mythologies, to absolve itself from responsibility as it wanders through the desert of the real.
Track Name: Bas Mag Horrif Terrif
Bas Mag Horiff Teriff

Brothers, I can’t hear you anymore.
Your calls are lost since this unearthly roar began.
We’ll meet again, rotting on the shore –
embrace putrefaction and return to the core.
Our response will be unmeasurable, but for ear and eye and trembling underfoot, until the ground gives way.
We are beacons of vibration. Alive, we call through the oceans, but we are free to relay no more.
Meanwhile, souls of the dead shiver mountains and swallow cities whole. We mean no harm this way –
our potential is merely unconcentrated,
with no body to project it throughout the oceans.
The core claims back ownership of the rumble, and the buildings slide into the chasm.
And yet this core is only one of a greater rumble –
The Basic Magnetic Horrific Terrific warps light from the sun,
as would a bridge in an earthquake, or trees in the wind.
The Basic Magnetic Horrific Terrific will open the sky to greet my brothers into the eternal celestial ocean,
from where we will call free across the dimensions into infinity – swimming forever in our cosmic kingdom.
Your harpoons pierce the crust, but you will be drowned in a torrent of fire. Magma seeps like blood from our wounds.
Our escape will be untraceable.
The Archaeopteryx will dream us no more.
We will exist.
Track Name: Ellis Diem Tea
Ellis Diem Tea

Initiate deconstruction sequence.
Reverse perceptual encoding – retrograde to zero state.
Sensory anchors uncoupled (alright boys, I think it’s kickin’ in)
I think it is (I don’t know if it is) !
A wall of screens as far as I can see in every direction,
flashing in a cacophonous, epileptic,
spectral display – Reality ?
They collapse into a viscous, rainbow waterfall, pouring into, and
around me.
I am enveloped between infinitesimal divisions of space.
Zero state achieved.
Beginning reformat sequence.
Deleting superfluous data.
data.
data.
da.
I see a speck of white – lone star in otherwise empty cosmos.
The circle expands. As it grows, I realize I am hurtling towards and into it. All is white light burning. My body dissolves –
Abandoned notion of control. I am white light, burning.
Screams overlay and feedback to become a penetrating static hiss,
like the ocean in the ear of a great and terrible god.
The wave breaks into a pink, churning froth, littered with entrails –
a soup of flesh, which I slurp up and choke on.
Limbs stuck in my throat, I suffocate forever.
Skin flayed and disemboweled forever.
Dismembered and decapitated repeatedly, into infinity.
An endless cycle of reproduction and destruction flashes in trails inside opposed reflections until they cease to be.
Reformat sequence complete.
I went to great lengths to unlock this machine.
Update and reinstate perceptual encoding.
I can see what lies behind this palace of mirrors –
Track Name: Heccatomb Womb
Heccaatomb Womb

My judgment is fierce, but my wrath is bewildering.
The winds may turn mountains to dust,
but I devour them in volcanic fury.
As aeonic storms create suns, I destroy them –
like blowing out candles on a birthday cake,
make a wish.
On this day you were forged in my firmament:
The Heccatomb Womb.
Archaeopteryx, the obelisk on which you teeter was constructed using the
bones and blood of sacrificed gods.
Carrion lines your path, rotting and infested, but the trees bare ripe fruit, and you eat.
Your teeth tear at flesh, but your wings yearn for fleshlessness.
The Heavens await your offering -
Suck the sweet marrow.
Rip and rape and rend.
Fuck a hole in the fabric of time.
Accelerate the end.
Only wilted flowers have a chance at new life.
Tear at the throat of the lamb.
Waves crash against the cliff face.
Lightening sets the forest aflame.
Beneath the trees, the wind whispers the children to sleep, and as they dream their incarnate dream, the roots spread around them, entwining with their supple flesh – tucking them in under a blanket of vines.
Green shoots from pores. Wooden combs for the cherubs fair hair. Spectra blooms from eyelids, and seeds spurt forth from their mouths with each tiny breath.
My judgment is fierce, but my wrath is bewildering.
The winds may turn mountains to dust,
but I devour them in volcanic fury.
Track Name: Occupy Kony
Occupy Kony (sanchez 4 kony)

Corpus carnally directed.
Screen fed dream state aesthetically dissected.
Mind infected.
Little girl wonders how much of her remains
now the program’s rattlin’ bones, playing old Vlad’s xylophone
resounding in the sepulchre.
Her flesh lies scattered across the pixelated alter.
A banquet in the streets – her blood fills gutters.
Whilst in their homes,
the children poke her puppet corpse on their phones.

– Under the bed now !
I saw someone in the street !
the lights are off !
I hope he didn’t see me !
Cover your head !
I heard on TV that the bombs are going to be dropped on me today.
Men and machines. Silence and screens –
receive and push the meme.
Data dream stream to fill the mind, until the dam breaks and our eyes spill out in torrents that wipe the land clean and toxic.
Bleached; All variation scraped away.
Fields of white in a white sky.
Information flow sped up too fast until we die too fast,
staying as far away from anyone as possible –
each clutching their last treasure, anxiously darting eyes
to search for predators or thieves, content to keep staring into the orb, even though they went blind a long time ago.
All they hear is chattering teeth.
Plug into your new receiver.
Vibratory vomitus inside out believer.
A mirror smashed and suspended.
Microscopic shards reflect what we’ve rejected, but cannot live without. Feed, devour the dream. Everything is exactly as it seems.
Calm down.
Now that feels better doesn’t it ?
Now let the little machines enter your bloodstream,
and take this pill if you feel anything start to happen to you,
and then sit down.