by Glass Shrine

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I am the very polestar of movement! Everything shifts in reference to me! I will myself to move, and Earth herself rotates under my feet. Rolling so seamlessly that I think I've walked, forming illusions of independent motion, spawning dozens of invalid theories, giving rise to nonsensical notions. But I've stood in the same place, still as stone, since the day I was born. Like a table ruled by its pinball, my planet rolls under a patient foot, dragging every grain of sand and every blade of grass in my path. Alas, the truth is smothered by those who want to think they have free will; a psychogeological marvel, shrouded in astronomical myth.
You were hanged to dry, to tap all the blood from you and drown you in black bile since melancholy so becomes you O that you somehow could have been saved, my deity of pity Your isolation, now your oubliette walled with regret – Follow your sharpened knives to the grave, they’ll set your neck free from the noose that kept you here, restraining thee from felicity Your plight rings true within me: an endless yearning for misery – do we hang from the same tree? We construct an echo chamber of sympathy, lovingly tightening each other’s dismal noose – hanged to dry! How foolish to think yourself the cure; such a fragile being, still yourself impure We were hanged to dry, a desiccated pair in decay Less than the sum of our parts in that crippling melancholy array
I own perceptions handed down through haughty, hardened palms tainted by subjectivity and force-fed to the young To this very day, I'm still peeling the skin off of the fruit they bore to tap the meat, the seeds, the core - the world the way it was before When the skin's giving away answers to questions I'd not yet asked, when I know to anticipate everything before its time, and when my patchwork thoughts form beliefs so scattershot, can I claim that these beliefs I hold were ever, for a moment, mine?
It’s a rarely-seen terror, a senseless breed of predator bearing a screech that never stops echoing through the mortal plane I will never understand its nature, only know that it is Massive and deafening, deathly efficient It sweeps the soil in calculated movements, erasing that which has already been erased Screech always echoing across the now-barren surface My constitution wilts before its nature – massive and deafening, alien and blind
When you scramble for answers, all you’ll find is wings and pristine specimens Search without ambiguity, lest you plunge into obscurity The lepidopteran smokescreen beclouds common logic Offering the promise of symmetry, an appealing alternative to the real The swarming, the ugly in every answer It lurks deep in damp forests, so far from the solution
But a Willow 02:01
I'm but a willow, gilded in dew waiting for morning to make its way through and I am the shelter, a loving embrace repelling the breeze of malevolent days I'm a vernal votary, growing green fingers as alms for the children in fall I'm sallow with sorrow, come autumn; tomorrow those fingers will answer the call I'll cast them away, a selfish relinquishment bound in my seasonal oath I'll again be the vigilant mother, another fresh April enticing my growth I'm but a willow of billowing jade, swallowing sunlight to shroud earth in shade and I am the mellow, the meadow's sole pride, the refuge awaiting in each spring's reprise
Amidst the cosmos stars glide through glistening golden feathers One of many, it calls forth, soon amassing an avian fleet Obfuscate God’s light with their wings Uproot mountains with their gales Carve ancient stone with their talons Deafen mankind with their wails Lighter than silk, they majestically soar above the cosmic bay Their amber hues bleed onto planets like dawn in summer A black hole stomach engulfs each swallowed sun in eternal night Civilizations either worshiped them, or knew enough to fear Biology and theology meet halfway, spawning entities defying explanation Sentient races lack sufficient sentience to gain hold of revelation
The first step impacts and haze blooms like pollen Bliss envelops every nerve in a warm rebirth Cobblestone gradually fades to clouds with every foot of movement Every concrete thought sublimates with time Memories bleed into concepts, fade to emotion and sensation Nobody knows for sure what land lies on the other side We bring back what souvenirs from it our memories will hold but passers through will only ever see peace transforming into acquiescent death
Amethyst 06:41
Garnet heart in aquamarine runs the endless gauntlet of sea Know its quivers, run down my spine Become undone, this garnet of mine The harbinger month knows these waves – pearl and sapphire meet a stalemate, agree to dually rule a new state from depths to waning tide I fear no wake; I’m pure from egg to flesh to grave – I know this water vital, from depths to waning tide, all sorrow within it I hide I’m a speck before the abyss, I’m the thread of the seamstress A purple hue glows from deep within Two moons seek refuge from their daughter’s sin


"Every facet of the album evinces the care that went into its crafting: the tremolo-and-blast driven intensity stands in stark contrast to the pastel-hued cover and song titles that reference precious gems and species of butterflies, and the highly poetic lyrics infuse the musical savagery with more than a touch of the sublime." - Invisible Oranges

The word "lapidary" can either be a noun referring to the craft of cutting gems (or a tradesman skilled in this craft), or an adjective describing an object "marked by conciseness, precision, or refinement of expression". Glass Shrine seeks and embraces both of these qualities in this eponymous debut full-length. Lapidary is nine tracks and 36 minutes of energetic, impassioned and triumphant black metal, a series of works to uncover the beauty in ferocity... to tap the meat, the seeds, the core.


released November 17, 2016

Glass Shrine is D.L.
All music and lyrics by Glass Shrine.
Artwork by D.L.

Written and recorded from 2013 to 2016.
Mixed from winter to summer 2016 by Glass Shrine and Charles Wong.
Mastered in summer 2016 by Charles Wong.


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