by Glass Shrine

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"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.



all rights reserved


Glass Shrine

An ongoing study of beauty in ferocity.

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Track Name: The Polestar of Movement
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.
Track Name: Hanged to Dry
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
Track Name: Hand-Me-Downs
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?
Track Name: Massive and Deafening
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
Track Name: Hylesia mymex
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
Track Name: But a Willow
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
Track Name: Glistening Golden Feathers
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
Track Name: Melatonin Bridge
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
Track Name: Amethyst
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