Ceinturon

from Punir by FANGE

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lyrics

Évanoui au petit matin de la couche des miens comme hier de celle des tiens, je ne me meus plus qu’en contre-jours et crépuscules. Vapeur de chair; omnisciente, impalpable. Mouroirs à bas rendements, fontaines de mort, assoupi à la lisière des mondes le bruit blanc de leurs cris d’aveugles s'y faisait murmure. J'y rêvassais d’une dernière pionce aux Marquises, joues baignées par la tiédeur des rayons d'un luisard à l'agonie. M'épaississant la couenne au ceinturon, infoutu d'être venin plus que contrepoison.

Vanished at dawn from my kinsfolk’s bed, as yesterday from your own kind’s one, I only peep out at backlights and dusks. A vapor of flesh; omniscient, ethereal. Low-yielding hospices, founts of death, drowsing at the edge of worlds the white noise of their blind men’s cries was turning into murmur. There, I was daydreaming of a last sleep in the Marquises, cheeks bathed by the lukewarm rays of a Sol at death’s door. Hardening my hind by the belt, incapable of becoming venom more than antidote.

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from Punir, released March 1, 2019

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FANGE Rennes, France

INDUSTRIAL DEATH / HARSH SLUDGE

This is ignorant music for the Educated Man.

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