Ichneumanity

by Reprisal

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about

Reprisal are:
Tom Johnstone – Vocals
Ollie du Toit – Guitars
Theo Brooke – Bass
Sion Mason – Drums

credits

released December 9, 2013

All music and lyrics by Reprisal
Recorded at various locations during Summer 2013 by Reprisal
Produced, mixed & mastered by Russ Russell at Parlour Studios in Kettering, England
Assistant Pro Tools engineering by Jay Russell
www.parlourstudios.co.uk

Artwork by Dan Seagrave
www.danseagrave.com

Layout & logo by James Hayball
www.facebook.com/jameshayballart

'Atomic Tectonics' lyric video:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbbrBfdr-Bc

Facebook: www.facebook.com/reprisalmetal

Twitter: twitter.com/ReprisalGB

Email: reprisalthrash@gmail.com

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Reprisal England, UK

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Track Name: Atomic Tectonics
Thud; the fading heartbeat of a dying whale, a sound that chases sleep forever, deep into the stomach of the waves that cradle a titan in its rest, a calming veil that guides it from the flesh of existence. Fathoms of night sweeping into closing eyelids, a final rush of blood runs through abandoned veins in silence. Atomic tectonics, a final repose; carbonic reclamation, respiration slows. Devoured, digested and reconstituted, jawless necks which resurrect the future. When something colossal dies, the presence it leaves behind resounds in the echoes of the dust of the depths of the world it lived inside. The worms that find their purpose in the bones of the dead, who build skeletal cities, continuing the thread. Atomic ghosts that shimmer in the dark, the echo of existence as the fragments drift apart forever. Atomic tectonics, a final repose; carbonic reformation, respiration slows. Reborn in leeches, a continuum, a root that springs in tangled strings of equilibrium. When something colossal dies, the presence it leaves behind resounds in the echoes of the dust of the depths of the world it lived inside. Our movements when in life, merge with wider tides. In death we live within those things in whom our bones reside, in life.
Track Name: Idiot Tyrant
Onward black forever. A lifeless surge, of servants to the urge, a river of limbs with one purpose. Thralls to success, a vapid gnawing insect, Ichneumanity arise and build your nest. Seductive sedition seeps from a swollen queen, spawns a vermin sea with souls on which to feed, willing fodder for an endless greed. Dark tendrils, insectoid, swell in the vast ego void. Slaves, vacant, idiot tyrant, suffer. A global trade in servitude, they're gladly sold, kissing hands of power they someday wish to hold. Like victory is found being the teller not the told, like worth is estimated in the currency of souls. Voracious, hypnotic, brain dead and flesh robotic. This is desire. Ichneumon race, ascent to domination, defective apes will be replaced. The weighted stone of want is hurled at the face of god, deformed by its brunt, idiot tyrant. At the frozen summit of his influence and wealth, the lengthened pulse surrenders to the crawling ice no heat will ever melt. Every breath a falling tide which pulls him further from himself, the king can find no prophet when the final deal is dealt. Voracious, hypnotic, tyrant. They beg with hands grasping and clutching, fingers wrench at hands that give them nothing. They eat themselves. The silence of a god they've never met, a tombstone sky stretching forever overhead. Voracious, hypnotic, brain dead and flesh robotic. The virus swells. Cower in fear, vermin under the wings of a serpent. Glistening crystal veneer appeasing the throes of his servants. Idiot tyrant, every life is spent, idiot tyrant, all life is an expense.
Track Name: Kill The Brain
Exiled, no semblance of humanity. On this wasteland, clinging to our sanity. Cast out, we hang by a thread, running through mountains of heads. Malevolent menace, hell-bent entity, cerebral remorseless enemy. Sever the nerve for we refuse to serve under this rule of pain. We must… kill the brain, and end its merciless reign. Kill the brain or be souls to obtain. A splatter of grey matter, the monster writhes in pain, a prisoner of its fury; it perishes in flames… kill the brain. When your eyes roll back into the head, the tentacle enters the skull. Sucking out the information, only leaving desiccation until the vast memory is full. Beamed down, homicidal hemisphere, infiltrates the atmosphere. Invading, sadistic mind. Sole objective: enslave mankind. Twisted, tentacled terror, total neuronic abduction. Pulsing, electric, a weapon of mental destruction. Captive and paralysed. Their master from the skies. Fortress of oppression. Retaliation, maniacal aggression. Strike it down. Kill the brain. End its life. Kill. Kill the brain, we end this hellish reign. Kill the brain, the planet is reclaimed. Cortex: exterminated, the monster has been slain. Target: terminated, we live free again.
Track Name: Thoughtopsy
Beating your chest because you beat the rest, those who oppose are zero. Nothing enshrined behind the eyes, feeding the ravenous ego. When the curtains fall and we exit the stalls, what will become of the hero? Does vanity endure, hiding the flaws in the dominion of Nero? Vultures only love you when you're dead, they'll cut out your heart and mount your head. Genetic religion, the gaping void of the human condition. Kneel with the weak at the throne of fiction, fucking kneel… Thoughtopsy. Watching your back for the phantom attack, behind all the smiles lie the fangs of the pack, you don't own your position, demise is imminent, reach out a hand they tear it off at the ligament. At the end of the day when it's all stripped away and you sit on the throne of your empire, all you survey, a vision in grey, a cackling vaudeville satire. Starvation of the mind, monoxide of the heart, coma of the soul, no way out.
Track Name: Sanity Vacuum
Arterial rivers carving a mountain of flesh, the peak, a jar of hollowing winds and the underview effect. What vantage does vision afford us if sky is a cavern of depth, and desert surrounds, seized by a drowning gush of shrieking insects? Wretch, writhe, the amniotic tear bore a vision of flies. Wretch, writhe, in ever shortening circles life survives, tightening spirals of order, life survives. A swarm of cells, fractal splinters gouged from a mass of adjacent shells, order, harmonic lunacy surfaces out from the swell of life, rebuilding reforming, life, procession to the final dark. The truth is hell is real and it's frozen, still and private; a neutral abscess leaking from the space behind the eyelids. Indifferent glow of unbroken snow feeds the crawl of a glacial torrent, a gentle maddening press that forges a strangled root of torment. Even the path to self destruction can light the way back home, the vein that winds through woods so dark and deep can lead to Rome. In the end we all chose one, love or fear, the choice that forms us all. They are the words we write on the same wall. Progression, unending arc. Procession to the final dark.