0:005:27
Production, Music & Lyrics: Philipp Schneider
Arrangement: Philipp Schneider
Drum Arrangement: Daniel Engström
Guitar, Bass, Synths & Vocals: Philipp Schneider
Drums: Daniel Engström
Mixed & Mastered by: Milan Steinbach at Pointbreak Recordings
Production Assistance: John Broich — Pointbreak Recordings
Arrangement: Philipp Schneider
Drum Arrangement: Daniel Engström
Guitar, Bass, Synths & Vocals: Philipp Schneider
Drums: Daniel Engström
Mixed & Mastered by: Milan Steinbach at Pointbreak Recordings
Production Assistance: John Broich — Pointbreak Recordings
Marks of progress scar the fractured shell
empty words of promise from the wishing well
wealth foretold missing from their open palms
the call for innovation in need for renovation
repeating invocation of the systems designation
rejecting the solace of their open arms
progress under the grey monolith distorts
the guidance that it itself should afford
The dark of the night
within its embrace
carries the spark that could light the flame
the bright watching eye
can then be defied
when we avert our gaze from its blinding light.
Silent gods of entropy, feed upon our fears
conjuring an enemy, make the darkness disappear
No longer human, remnants of what once was,
In whispers cold, our spirit withdraws.
The dark of the night
within its embrace
carries the spark that could light the flame
the bright watching eye
can then be defied
when we avert our gaze from its blinding light.
empty words of promise from the wishing well
wealth foretold missing from their open palms
the call for innovation in need for renovation
repeating invocation of the systems designation
rejecting the solace of their open arms
progress under the grey monolith distorts
the guidance that it itself should afford
The dark of the night
within its embrace
carries the spark that could light the flame
the bright watching eye
can then be defied
when we avert our gaze from its blinding light.
Silent gods of entropy, feed upon our fears
conjuring an enemy, make the darkness disappear
No longer human, remnants of what once was,
In whispers cold, our spirit withdraws.
The dark of the night
within its embrace
carries the spark that could light the flame
the bright watching eye
can then be defied
when we avert our gaze from its blinding light.