The sun is shaking
this gold is mud in my hands
and i must bury it
before it turn into my bread
(rit)
i'd have never guessed to get so high
and throw your dirty eyes behind the wall
many years have passed by
but i'm still paralyzed on your horizon
the scabs are thousands
all over my arms and thoughts
my dear perfection
tell what the hell you want more
(rit)
what profit has a man of all his labour
witch he takes under the sun?
one generation passes away and another generation comes
but the earth abides forever
and the sun also arises, and the sun goes down
and hastes to his place where he aroses
(Qoèlet 1:3,4,5 - Antico testamento)
stuck on the threshold
your love's an ointment for me
my dear perfection
tell what you want to let me breathe
The Barcelona duo inject coldwave with industrial grit and ghostly elegance, with Andrea P. Latorre’s vocals an undeniable highlight. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 27, 2020
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