Flesh is Heir

by The Amenta

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    ‘Flesh is Heir’ is the third full-length album from The Amenta and is a bleak and dirty journey through mental decay and pressure. Death metal, black metal, noise and ambience are synthesised into a new sound. Organic and ugly, ‘Flesh is Heir’ is challenging music, not for the faint of heart.

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1.
Frail flesh is heir To a sea of troubles, And the human condition Impaled upon the horns of choice: To linger, twilit, In fringes of oblivion Or to bury hardened heels Stubborn, in fallow dirt? There is nobility In the vacance of the vessel The dirt smeared beast, Spine bent under burden, Struggles through the muck And is reborn in the mud, To struggle, beaten Bloody but unbowed Or to buckle at the knees And draw mud into lung Now the second: The obliterate's nature, And invertebrate mutt Or self-contained god? The quietus of cowards Or a divine transcendence? There is nobility In the vacance of the vessel The flesh is heir To a pale cast of thought, To a bare breast to whips Or by ignoring, end them? All that matters is struggle The third question; The nature of the realist, A worm feeding on mud Or human in excelsis? The ceaseless trials of Sisyphus Or a noble struggle? Every absurd query Deluged, deeper in shit The slate-eyed god: An addict of transcendence Grins madly in the grip Of a selfish junky zen Unhinged mind unmoored And heels in tug's tide Empty, vacant, useless Listless, in opiate voids The nature of man Is thought before the answer A struggle The nature of man Is constant internal battle All that matters is struggle The flesh is heir To a pale cast of thought The mind rotten with Whips and scorns of doubt An internal struggle From which humanity stems: To bare breast to whips Or by ignoring, end them? All that matters is struggle.
2.
Ego Ergo Sum 04:47
A desperate, yearning nothing Hidden behind the screen, A pissing contest For pointless piss-ants The selfish scrawl Of another septic soul, These are the vapid children Born of the void You are the pit of aching silence In another's sound and fury This is the era Of the desiccated soul A sordid psychic zero So beat your fucking drum You know you are nothing A character struck dumb Fill the depths with drama Ego ergo sum A flickering cinema screen Ambience of broken neon A whore's flashy drag Around a monochrome heart When all you have: Plaster cast of stolen psyche Then no ego, just ID Lights, camera, cut A technicolour ejaculate From a cathode ray throat Words without resonance Words learnt by rote Senseless stock sound seeps From paint smeared smiles A rattle of the reel In a dusty, derelict theatre Every word a cliché Stripped from a dimestore romance Where are the swells of strings? In silence, you dance The selfish scrawl Of another septic soul These are the vapid children Born of the void You are the pit of aching silence In another's sound and fury This is the era Of the desiccated soul You find solace in scripts Just cracked mirror reflections You know you are nothing A character struck dumb Fill the depths with drama Ego ergo sum
3.
Teeth 03:57
Higher mind as a pill, Dissolving in a gut, Losing shape and form Just primordial sludge, An endorphic phosphene, Projected on cinematic skull A crystallized, Perfect fucking nothing Death at a plunger's push Bloody across the canvas A crystallized zero Death a plunger's push Reborn: Tabula Rasa An artificial warmth From diluted blood Tail in teeth Cortex stripped stumbling Down the nervous system Liminal - Minimal A dream of teeth and claw Reborn: Tabula Rasa A dream of teeth and claw The snake's escape A vicious primal joy Trading reason for reflex And vagaries for void Leave your weapons At the doors of imperceptions Tail in teeth The snake: a crystallized zero Perfect fucking nothing The snake: a crystallized Perfect fucking nothing Tail in teeth The death of the soul And weakness on trial An unconscious conviction Reborn a reptile Neocortex annul A thumbs unyielding weight Against the world's winds A feathered serpent embrace I have seen the greatest minds Sedated and slumped Sickly spinal shiver In a cold-blooded dawn A thawing of sluggish vein And sudden rush of reason Heading for the shallows And crawl, gasping from swamp In sweaty shrouds of sheets Reptiles shed their scales
4.
A Womb Tone 02:47
5.
Ripped apart By repetitions of rhythm To be sunk Submerged by swells of strings, In trickles of tempo Mutes Of melody thrust Roughly in bells of throat Flooding slickly in The reservoir of lung One voice in chorus One note in arrest One movement, no meter No discord of flesh I am a single signal Tear me from the ground And drown me in sound I am a crest of a wave Tear me from the ground And drown me in sound In ripples of rhythm Drunken I will drift, in escape's Harmonic undertow And bury myself In the sounding sands Each heartbeat washed out On endless reverb tails Carry me to climatic crests And crush me in the depths I am a single signal Tear me from the ground And drown me in sound I am a crest of a wave Tear me from the ground And drown me The will is floating, adrift Like a cork in the currents A vessel becalmed Amidst a war of waves One simple, single voice In a formless ocean of noise Let me loose, let me loose To lose myself in noise The mind, salt-rotted and sinking Noise Meaningless In the multitude I will drift in the undertow Ears stopped and heart struck I will be void in the vastness I will not be I'll gather my rags And walk into the waves And pitch and sink In a sea of sound I am a single signal Tear me from the ground And drown me in sound I am a crest of a wave Tear me from the ground And drown me Drown me in sound
6.
Sewer 03:46
A reeking clogged trap Battered, maimed and swollen Gluttonous hungry for waste A sewage bloated cunt An impure substandard breed A well-groomed mongrel With a gutful of worms With two permanent incisors In wear, it was prepared A disease addled wither neatly chopped and tainted A heaving cesspit a pig steeped in shit A sewer lined with pearls Exhaling moist foul air Boasting a shit-eating grin Enticing us Smeared across its face So greedy for waste Slouching wallowing glutton A gaping yearning void Like a tired straining yawn Sleep deprived and stretched out wide Burying its head Beneath the sand Dogs where it sleeps It shits where it eats A heaving cesspit a pig steeped in shit A sewer lined with pearls Exhaling moist foul air Boasting a shit-eating grin Enticing us Smeared across its face So greedy for waste Slouching wallowing glutton A second-hand doll Soiled used and broken A shit-stained porcelain bitch A freezing black hole Sipping shit from the gutters With smug look on its face So hungry for waste
7.
The Argument 04:09
(The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom.) We audit our intake and binge on our guilt. A crystallized mind is a well-sharpened blade. The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. And yet we harness ignorant beasts. A deliberate studied step is a safe, sure path. (The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom.) But we are cloistered monks, divorced from the world. Always speak your mind and watch the base man scuttle. And I'll admit I'm wrong when I see your proof, cowering wreck. No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. And yet, chemically clipped, we struggle. No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. And yet, chemically clipped, we struggle on melted wax. Everything possible to be believed is an image of truth. And yet we define ourselves in opposition to others, A defined self-awareness is a psyche's foundation. But, carved in sunken relief, We leave no impression. Argument is to idea as the grindstone to axe. And from the standing water I'll drink my fucking poison. No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. And yet, chemically clipped, we struggle. No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. And yet, chemically clipped, we struggle on melted wax.
8.
Cell 04:47
In the seaward slums of the city a small, second-story room, it is one of many identical rooms, nothing sets is apart. There is a bare, stained bed and a sharps jar on a formica table, the only sounds are the insect buzz, through the window, of the broken neon in the rain and the shallow hiss of her breath. She squats in the corner, something implicit yet childlike in the splay of her legs. A needle and spoon lie neatly at her side. There is a tattoo on her thigh, perhaps a snake or a snarl of barbed wire, smeared by time beyond recognition. We fall, flightless, into the pinprick in her ankle. Wombed by blood, we are thrust by the throb of her heart to the tips of her fingers and back through the branches of her veins. We come to rest, spent, behind her eyes and see ourself as she would see us: A contusion of neon spreads across our face and turns our smile into a sneer. Our outstretched hand is a clawed parody of its empathetic intent. Through her ears we hear a distant tidal roar of freeway traffic. The keening calls of police sirens. An endless conversation of rain. Static. Pull back. We crouch at her feet and the smell flares our nostrils. Through the lank shroud of her hair we see the twitch of her lips. We hold our breath and put our ear to her mouth. Only the whistle of breath through her broken teeth. Where her voice fails her eyes deliver: "It's OK. OK. Leave us alone." We can only shrug and walk from the room. On the stairs we are momentarily crushed. By the weight of our pain, personal and empathetically accrued, yes. But also by the image of these countless, identical rooms, all with their own catatonic residents. And perhaps others, standing over them, envious of their escape. Gathering our coat at our chest we walk out of the doorway, into the rain.
9.
A feral monkey Hung up in a sack Scratching and clawing Tearing at the fabric Focus directed to the flesh Something you can Control, more or less Action, reaction Administering shirt term relief Clawing Obsessed with reflections Material is all he sees A severed thread A grain of sand A flickering ember A faltering fire A brick in a wall Built upon A foundation of nothing Obsessed with reflections Material is all he sees Another shovel load of dirt The weight of the world A collusion of strangers It's a strange world A severed thread-mixing cocktails A grain of sand - of Blood, sweat and tears A flickering ember - I'll gargle your pain A faltering fire - I'll thicken your skin Down on your knees To plead for disease To worship the noose Gagging for abuse Another hemorrhaging soul Rejects its battered shell Only to wake up Back where it began Obsessed with reflections Material is all he sees Another shovel load of dirt The weight of the world Revolving to the same Black, bellicose, drain No strength, no spine Scratching and clawing
10.
A Palimpsest 02:34
11.
Tabula Rasa 04:54
We'll rise up to the sky on the smoke of the sirens. Countless amongst the stars of the footpath's shattered glass, put our troubles on the fire and they'll burn like books. We'll dance to the tattoo of a thousand erratic hearts, the drumming of heels. And polyrhythmic punches. Building's flames dart across the angles of mask. Assimilation of the will. Anonymous. One flicker in inferno. Finally a clean slate underneath all the bruising. Razed to the ground. Tabula Rasa. We'll riot in the flicker of a hanged man's heels, the clatter of nails and spasms of tongue. Building's flames dart across the angles of mask. Assimilation. An ember in the fury. Crystallized, reduced. One mask among many. Obliterate's dissolve in a ritual of flame. One flame in inferno. Simplified, reduced. One mask among many. An ember in the fury. In a ritual of flame. We'll burrow into the earth and drown in the soil. Drunken among the stones we'll dig our own grave. Melt the shackles from our wrists in a furnace of fists. A flare of faceless dilettantes. A cabal without direction. Remember, remember. (Our features all identi-kit.) The fifth of November a plot with a fucking reason. A feeling of omnipotence in the symmetry of violence. But it binds our mouths and pulls our teeth. We'll skitter in the wind in the ill winds of stasis. Formless in the melee of a contemptuous mass. We are not, and will never. We'll dance to the tattoo of a thousand erratic hearts, the drumming of heels. And polyrhythmic punches. Building's flame's dart across the angels of mask. Assimilation of the will. An ember in the fury. Crystallized, reduced. One mask among many. Obliterate's dissolve in a ritual of flame. One flicker in the arc. Simplified, reduced. One mask among many. An ember in the fury. In a ritual of flame.

credits

released March 22, 2013

Recorded by The Amenta at NON Studios, Sydney
Drums recorded at Studio Zapata, Sydney.
Vocals recorded and produced by Cain Cressall at Violent Voice Studio Perth

Mixed by Erik Miehs at NON Studios, Sydney.
Mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side Music, New York

All Music and Lyrics by The Amenta

Additional Sound Sources in 'A Palimpsest' by Melek-Tha.

Cain Cressall - Vocals
Erik Miehs - Guitar
Timothy Pope - Noise, Samples, Effects
Dan Quinlan - Bass
Robin Stone - Drums

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The Amenta Sydney, Australia

THE AMENTA was crudely welded together in the sickly dawn of a new millennium, Combining the uglier aspects of Black Metal, Death Metal, extreme Industrial and ambient Electronica, THE AMENTA soundtracks an era of rot, rust and ruin

The current line-up consists of:

Cain Cressall (Vocals)
Erik Miehs (Guitars)
Timothy Pope (Samples, Keyboards)
Dan Quinlan (Bass)
David Haley (Drums)
... more

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