1. |
A visceral melancholia
09:20
|
|||
(The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children)
Never mind the burden of guilt
I shall carry it for both of us
But the fear is mine alone
An unwanted gift from you
I did not ask for this
Nobody asks for this
Power absolute
Corruption absolute
Destruction absolute
The ache of loss claws my gut
The pain of grief clutches my heart
The agony of a childhood lost
Wrenching numbness for what never was
A visceral melancholia comforts me and lets me know I still live
|
||||
2. |
A man of great appetites
10:20
|
|||
Conceived in sin
His bearer overpowered
Borne of death and loss
As a boy
His guilt blossomed
In the fertile furrows
Of recrimination
His existence, his shadow:
The sum of malevolent error
As a young man
Dogged by failure
Bathed in dismay
A course set for dusk
Wandering through lands
Almost abandoned
Instruments dry with goetia
In the case by his side
Pale damp folds
Sickly sweet
Under an unsmiling sun
Carving the beautifully untouched
Howling ascends skywards
Alongside embers and woodsmoke
He walks purposefully
Across bleak basalt
Dancing in molten judgement
|
||||
3. |
Pyrrhic victory
07:16
|
|||
Every bridge has been burned
Every building razed
The earth has been salted
Around me, a wasteland
Everything I had, I have spent
On this war of desolation
Alone, I feast on the carrion
All that is left of that for which I fought
Stripped away, the armour of indifference
Naked and alone, a quivering wreck
Too tender, too raw to run
The only defence, a vicious attack
Cut down all who come near
Lest they too cause pain
Blinded by fear, stand resolute
An island, a rock, alone
Triumphant I stand, Pyrrhus reborn
One more such victory and we are lost
|
||||
4. |
Soliloquy
07:54
|
|||
To be, or not to be? That is the question—
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them? To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
|
||||
5. |
Futility ACT, Australia
Formed in 2007, Futility released a demo, and two albums before disbanding in 2015.
Reformed with two new members 2017. Subsequently released an album and a single.
Streaming and Download help
Futility recommends:
If you like Futility, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp