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lyrics

The cliffs are not in control. The weather, this force they cannot move to understand, bids their aging. The wind is a watcher anger and power unseen, for a creator did not gift them with eyes to see. But these cliffs do feel. Fell the cold salt burn their wounds to cleanse.
And they stand still.
With no recognition for the life blooming within their skin. No recognition of death. No distinction of those who fall and those who jump. Yet these cliffs can hear. Hear the screams of the falling, curses meant for heavens ears, murders of nesting birds, harsh howling of demons of the wind.
And they stand still.
These memories resonate inside their caverns while hope clings inside their deepest crevices only to be plucked painfully by predators, cast down to the eternal sea whose waves pound ceaselessly. In the end, each drop feels the same. A particle eroding its face.
These cliffs stand still.
Unconsenting breeders of violence. Bare ground ravaged in the name of new life. Yet nothing sears them more than the silence of their god.

credits

from Caput Corvi E​.​P., released January 14, 2015

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