1. |
Pareidolia
03:48
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Sometimes I look into the sun and see myself
Sometimes I look into myself and see the sun
Sometimes I see the face of god in my mundane life
And I assign my mundane life to the highest one
The formless has been given its eyes
And it has come to no one’s surprise
That even now my desire to perceive
Has allowed this very force to deceive
If I convince myself over and over
The sky’s the limit for what I can uncover
I draw the knife out and cut my face free
And force it onto the world around me
This is merely a projection of man
And they will make it so whenever they can
The whole of nature is a looking glass
But we are still the first in line to pass
If I can build it then so must it be
Then this whole world is beholden to me
I always conquer what I choose to create
Or is my creation what I imitate?
Imposition
Inquisition
Explanation
Infestation
Oh, why
Does the real world deceive my eyes?
Oh why
Can’t they hear the desperate lies?
Perhaps the world has lost its fun
That’s why I look into the sun.
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2. |
The Menace
03:44
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The revenant irreverent bathing in bloodshed
the sylvan entities bleed chlorophyll from green to red
you were doomed
for every second you're awaiting in the woodlands
the cold caress of carbon claws clutched in their green hands
here's your tomb
even a drop of rusted plasma bodes a visit
to turgid tongues 'tis truly tasty and exquisite
what came first, the stories or the menace?
what lives on, the murder or the legend?
(what dies first, the murder or the legend?)
I never claimed my co-conspirators cadaverous
they're only eager to augment my avid avarice
give me mine
A grinning ghoulish face awaits within the darkness
is it a wonder how the stories got their start? it's
killing time
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3. |
The Red Ones Go Faster
04:02
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I’ll burn my mortal years like fuel
Make a weapon of my pain and my madness into a tool
Caffeine, sugar, red-eye, snuff: Run my engines ragged and rough
This world hasn’t given me reason to play it cool
I can’t tell where the paint becomes a trail of blood
I’ve run my tracks so deep in flesh like ruts in the mud
I’m a bucket of failing bits I know,
This condition is tradition put your foot through the transmission
Shift, shift, shift
‘ere we go!
Gimme salt and iron in my maw
Grind my teeth like gears on words that cut like saws
I feel a stinging in the nostrils kinda like petrol fire I’m well aware
Of the ground I’m losing, slipping through my claw
Paint it red the faster to its death it goes
This condition is tradition put a cork in the emission and
Shoot, shoot shoot
Backfire, ‘ere we go!
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4. |
Diary of a Teapot
05:19
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That night the mists on table mountain
hung like shrouds on an autopsy slab
and the stars above the cairns below
shone like gems in an idol’s eye
and once more blue lights shone on the marsh
and the tar pits gurgled in ghoulish delight
by my parent’s word was I sculpted
“what has never lived can never die”
By day am I short and stout and still
By night am I out of sight and mind
as I cast my spells though they be not mine
My words spill like blood till I fall
I wait under cover of cast iron
for the witching hour to arrive
for then the dish runs away with the knife
to heed the creator’s call
Tip me over, pour out your faith
blame your fault on some malignant wraith
the simple truth is that this isn’t true
what you have blamed on me was done by you
(Tokoloshe)
Can’t you hear them crying out for more?
Entire species now obsessed with gore
call me a demon, but I can see
you all are worse than I will ever be
(Tokoloshe)
I am a servant of the fear
(taking form in your curse)
given sight by the seer
(and a voice by your verse)
into the sky above Johannesburg
(after the fire)
servitor, sentinel, sentience at your desire!
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5. |
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In your midst they walk
In your tongue they speak
Know that as you live
It’s your undoing they seek
Oh, how words of gods
Can set the pyres ablaze
Oh how the letters of light
Can quench the sun and end your days
Bend your knee
Bow your head
Whet your knife
Follow me
Cast aside your doubt
Leave behind your thought
Never hope to ask
We shall want for naught
All that you must do
Is pay my spirit fee
And all who hesitate
Bring them forth, kill them in front of me
Bend your knee
Bow your head
Whet your knife
Follow me
I am the word made flesh
Brace yourself for another flood
I am no more or less than you
Take my life, and you shall drink your fill of blood
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6. |
The Comedy of Forms
04:29
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No tale could prepare the trespasser
For waking up outside his skin
No lanterns, no whispers,
No coach and horses to deliver him . . .
No one will miss the wanderer
For to all eyes he shall return
A brazen mask for a captive crowd
Deceived at every turn
For one such purpose unknown
Outside the hidden circles of stone
This town has never seen my true face
Perhaps that is why they fear me so . . .
Seen vaguely as another face
Unassuming oh so forgettable
Fits perfectly the traitor’s role . . .
Come, would I ever let you see
All the things that I was supposed to be
I shall place one of my masks upon your face . . .
It is easy to tell the whole truth
To an enemy who cannot fathom true
They will not attempt to catch him out
Even when he wants them to.
Shift, Swap, swindle and stare
What we are I do not know or care
I shall let my portrait show
In a trick of the light an impenetrable halo
I shall place one of my masks upon your face . . .
Humanity is a comedy of forms
That all become ashes and writhing worms
Existence, a joke. It’s plain to see
Plain to see, it is my decree
All comedians are we!
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7. |
Glass Sparrows
04:12
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That winter’s day I heard the song
When the nightingale cried
It killed our world, and in an instant
Glass sparrows fell from the sky
The hero and the serpent
Engaged and became one
A moment lost in nihil
Then the deed was past and done
So many lovely predators
Wherever you may go
There’s no place for such treasures
In a world of flying stones
*How could you shatter their wings and survive
How cruel would it be to keep the memory alive?
Nothing now but secrets sealed behind the broken beak
I wonder what the shards would say if only they could speak
Brother knows best
And he knew nothing then.
Pious and clairvoyant
We thought we knew it all
But the hands that fold in prayer
were too slow to stop your fall
Trusting in the spirits as if
They can lend a hand
Empty as the footprint
Where we all refused to stand
They said that man is noble
Merciful and good
So why do they say nothing
As you sink beneath the mud?
A lover’s caress
Can mean nothing then.
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8. |
Horrors of the Library
06:08
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Azure arcana, cantrips in crimson
Have found their ways onto the stone
I beg for an eye to read what is written
To understand all that we’ve done
For what is a word in the absence of letters?
And what could they be without thought?
I beg for the wisdom to loosen our fetters
To recall the battles we’ve fought
Now, see what the horrors have wrought
The library burns at the jester’s decree
Cries from the void “I’m the change that you sought”
So why are you fleeing from me?
Veridian chants, obsidian curses
Like ink turned our bleeding hearts black
I beg for a voice to give wings to these verses
So that we may bring ourselves back
O sires of chaos, o music of madness
Come guide us at last to our fate
I beg for a hand to take hold of the chalice
And thrust the key into the gate
“I am the change you have sought, why are you fleeing from me?”
Burning essence
Flickers beneath translucent skin
Bearing matches
To set the last vestige of truth aflame
In the window
Paraselene round their lunar eyes
Here it shall come to pass as so many times before
Civilization undone by the whims of man made manifest
Come, blinded
Muted
I am the carnage you’ve wrought in your efforts to see
Come, deafened
Heretic
I am the change that you’ve sought
Flee from me.
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9. |
The Recluse
04:33
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The cloisters of my sanctum
Will no longer be
Empty when my imagination
Catches up with me
My mind, my monastery
Turned upon itself
And all that was once holy
Has become my hell.
Light plays from wavering lamps
Across the face of haggard gloom
Willingly, I trapped myself
In this isolated tomb
The walls of my personality
Closing me in this night
The hands of my time remaining
Dismantle my will to fight
Every devil and hobgoblin
In existence has visited me
They whisper of deeds undone
And what my world could be
My thoughts are a figure that waits
Leering from empty rooms
My fears are gibbering demon mouths
Whispering of my doom
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Goblin Hovel
A genre-defying band that entails the cooperation of several artists from several bands of several genres under the direction of a nameless Goblin. They present a view of the modern world through the lens of history, mysticism, and mischief.
Goblin Hovel recommends:
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This is cold, meditative, and plain old desolate black metal done right. A must have for the worshipers of 90's style Norwegian folk/black metal!
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Every member of Oak is an absurdly talented musician and their cohesion as players and people is awe inspiring in and of itself. The music is intricate, but emotional; wild, yet thoughtful.
go to albumIf you like Goblin Hovel, you may also like:
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Thunder in the Mountains
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If you're a fan of Marrasmieli, look no further. Although a little brighter and more upbeat than their Finnish peers, this album is just as engaging.
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Devil's Blood in Her Tongue
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