by Glass Shrine

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released February 8, 2016

D.L. - songwriting, guitars, bass, vocals
A.K. - session drums

Written and recorded from early 2012 to August 2014.
Remastered in summer 2016.
Artwork by Jackson Black.



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Glass Shrine

An ongoing study of beauty in ferocity.

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Track Name: Pyrrhic Bliss
The eunuch rose to enamored man, now snipped safe to the touch:
"If my thorns were still in place, would I not be loved as much?
Would you rather I represent an idyll impossible to achieve,
where fingers can run on smoothened stems free of thorns and leaves?"
The man sighs, ponders, solemnly answers:
"Affection fails to blossom when the future's thorns are kept in sight.
And so mankind copes by snipping impurity away,
until we see love as a falsified future where all will be alright."

"Cut it away; it might still exist,
but I'll simply forget; it shall fade in my bliss
I don't want to live in a world
where anything is less than perfect
Tomorrow's a day for a new me to face
and I don't know that man,
so here I'll sit, with my shears in hand,
'curing' roses over and over again..."

Mortal men, all symbols of frailty
will all refuse their fate
indicative of a harsh reality
even when it's in their face;

And the sanity's saved when the thorns are shaved
and their stench leaves the air,
But when the future rears its ugly head,
no one wonders if that's why they were ever there
Track Name: The Collective Mask
You longed for a face,
a flare to glow far beyond
the enemy that rebellion
taught you to create

Antithetical responses to mores
Tell me, how free are you?
A mask found through an identity - shared by millions!
What does this make you?

Only fools deny the scent of air so sweet
or the taste of ripened bulbs in bloom
in defiance of their enjoyment by the elite
as they search for beliefs to assume.
You wheeze for breath so jaggedly,
and your pulse beats out of time with other men -
all in pursuit of a self to call your own
through the torture of trudging against the grain

You've found your "face",
but it's so poorly sewn-on
The ill-fitting skin
betrays your soulless eyes
Track Name: Tongues of Fervor
Throat expands beyond frame,
streams automatically
Once an orator's tool,
now autonomous entity
Detached from reason or sense
to converse sparingly
Vomiting thoughts from tongue to ear
to fragment privacy

Force-feed me words
best left unheard

Nothing spoken shall change my perception
and nothing mused will alter what I see
and all that I hear is grounded, mundane
in tongues endlessly lashing in vain

All shall come!
And some shall come close!
But with empty arms...

Why have you approached me?
Is it merely to unhinge your jaw,
and leak the life stories
that you have harbored within your maw?