Get all 4 Abske Fides releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of O Sol Fulmina a Terra (Full-Lenght 2016), Abske Fides (Full-Lenght 2012), Disenlightment (EP 2009), and Illness (Demo 2004).
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The Consequence of The Other
Psychosomatic repulse manifests its phobia and attraction in the painful blooming of carnal contractions that contains in each tear, parts of what it is and what it denies that is.
Referential contradictions vivify a torturous experience, in which reason is nothing but a labyrinth of shut doors and the self explodes in tiles, to be reborn in distorted mosaics of a narcissistic objectivity.
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2. |
Won’t You Come
09:19
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Won´t You Come?
Won´t you come to paint the pictures at my wall?
Fake I am inside, self-destructive like a war
From night raises some random sketches
And a morbid desire of mutilation
I could be embraced by colorful reveries
But I asphyxiate myself with my anxiety
Won´t You Come?
Where do I begin ?
Where do I stop (when i want to go on)?
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3. |
Coldness
08:52
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Coldness
In the wavy mirror of shaken water can be seen embroided in reflections the wisdom of the monster and the force of the king, the repugnance of the ogre and the coldness of progress.
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Aesthethic Hallucination of Reality
Multifrenetic intensities simulate experiences by unconnected stimulations and glamourize the spectacle of reality as a bizarre show. Matter dances freely in space and pulverizes the world in unrecognizable and breakable symbolists. Torrents of images, words and random colors lead the way to nowhere.
Trapped in a maze of hallucinations, I can no longer recognize myself. Virtual reality, androgyny and bottled up psycodelia sum up, to the joy of enactment.
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5. |
4.48
09:26
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4.48
The weight of symbolic actions stabs my lungs crushing my heart
I watch the ceiling as if watching my feelings
I know I should not speak but my desire covers the voice of my thought
I am motivated by the rhythm of insanity
I try to watch around me with the rope tied around my hands
The noise of the clock awakes me
Four hours and forty eight minutes of a day I shall never see
The rope that before trembled with my hands now chokes me in my final redemption
The last thoughts rush into my head
And before closing my eyes for the last time I realize: "No one came in time. Maybe there was no one."
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6. |
Embroided In Reflections
05:14
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