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Echo Chamber 05:10
To much empty spaces in this room that should be filled. Take all these friendly faces nicely framed, calm and still. Fill out all these spaces with their mouths that sing your songs. Of the ideas you all share in your heads. They’re never wrong. Tongue by tongue. - Brick by brick. Layer over layer of mirror shards and assent. Fill this gap. Stuff this breach. Build the perfect surface to reflect every speech. Caress your work. And feed it well. Accord to all these faces. to the stories that they tell. Nodding approvals and shaking hands. Sometimes trading sayings that carry on ideals. In this room which is so safe. Everywhere are pillows of likeminded brains. The density of all the truth Clocks every further look. Hides other rough realitys. And blood behind the wall. This room that mirrors everything of what you all approve. This room that locks out everything That can’t possibly be true. Now scream out loud Or just give a whisper. And bath in agreement and selfmade wisdom. Your predication will find its pairs. And help to create the feeling of a righteous world. While behind these selfbuild walls The world shines in it’s own light. And stands in it’s own darkness. Untouched by the echoes in your chamber. Untouched by the mimic plastered to your walls. And in that corner lays a hammer. Without a use.
Hook Blind 01:59
Don't take the bait! Do you really think it's as easy as this? Just a present from a nice soul? Can't you smell it? There is something in the air. Something on these hidden hands. Not this night. Not right now. But you are the trophy. You are the prize that they want you to pay. They know you'll come back. They know you to well. And they have time. And they have time. Do you feel their eyes on you? Do you feel their eyes on you? Hook blind...
Upstairs-he went - carried up by a small box Familiar-faces - the circle hasn’t changed Half a year gone by without feeding the vein short words exchanged in an empty flat The shot hit gold his mind just hit the floor This is the way out collapse and fall through the door Tumbling Backwards hands searching for hold familiar faces melting together with walls a cold wave of blood spreading in his torso no words are left by an open mouth Some steps-downstairs then everything turned to ice Air left his lung Pinpoint pupils shut off the light That’s where_the others found him dead and dragged him back inside Rigor mortis made a visit. Did it’s job and departed. Grey deranged extremities in the arms of decay. The appartment started to smell. while flies did find their castles. It became unbearable. and raised a treacherous smell. Wrapped up- in a curtain- they stuffed him in a closet. Even heroin- can’t cover - the smell of a dead body. The blooming - stench reached out. Reached out - into the stairhouse. The radius kept growing. They tossed his corpse off the balcony..
Hypnos 04:12
In this room there is only one pair of eyes which finds itself in three simple framed mirrors two in the bathroom and one on the way to the door the air is stale and smells like the hotel floor the next step given up to soon all these piled up options left for dead in bloom the next spark burned out to soon all these piled up options left for dead in bloom it took all day for the loneliness to get pressed to one hard lump ripe without any use now it fits into a glas the next step given up to soon all these piled up options left for dead in bloom the next spark burned out to soon all these piled up options left for dead in bloom just the sound of the street flows through the window and the head is crammed starring occasionally out of the window just to find again this one pair of eyes meaningless because well known sleep calls opiate like the time capsule to the next overfilled vacuum
In an apartment in Detroit 1921 On a cold evening on February the 6th Thomas Lynn Bradford started to seal his room His hands weren't shaking Guided by the confidence that this is not the end. That he would just step throgh a gate. His one-way-ticket to a place named summerland. The plan was completed at the meeting the night before. Ruth and him decided to open the door. And she said she'd be there. Opening her mind to receive his call. To find proof that there is an afterlife and that the dead can communicate with the living. He blew out the pilot light and started the gas. „Detroit, February seventh More than forty-eight hours have passed. Ruth Doran didn't hear anything! Dead Spiritualist Silent“
Dunkelziffer 08:13
The Phone always rings at night. A sonor dry repetative cry. Alarming but still expected. He picks up. Every time. Like a silent confession. With an open end. No Voice. Just Silence. Sometimes_ a silent breathing. Not as_ if composed by lust. No Voice. Just Silence. Sometimes_ a silent breathing. Not as_ if composed by lust. Just breathe. someone listening. And knowing. The past is present. Still no words Just breathe. someone listening. And knowing. The past is present. Still no mouth Just a speaker like a wound A vibrant stitch through his ear opens the door to a bottomless pit in his mind where nothing ever hits the floor the discovery that the line has been dead for years left him in cold sweat left weight on his chest this changes everything and nothing changes whom can you trust if not even yourself there's fourty million schizophrenic worldwide go ahead dial dunkelziffer Go ahead ...dial dunkelziffer! Look over your shoulder Whom can you trust if not even yourself? Are these people staring at you? dial dunkelziffer look over your shoulder whom can you trust if not even yourself? Pick up the phone! A Dead Line A dead End No Bell Ringer No Recipient Whom can you trust? A Dead Line! A dead End! No Bell Ringer! No Recipient. Whom can you trust if not even yourself? Dial dunkelziffer!
Lurking Fear 07:44
Everybody carries this black condensed bag somewhere in his center close to the stomach it's filled with fear, anger, axiety, despair, tiny teeth and wounds we know it's there when it takes over when it reacts or sedates when it sharpens or dulls the blade this black center this black hole (this black center this black hole this black bag that you carry along) everybody carries this black condensed bag with portioned dark suprises well hidden most the time then cutting through the surface like a knife behind the happiest face lives a little dark tennant this black center this black hole that makes things hard to take back that cuts off friends and opportunities that cuts and bites that is a part of you this black center this black hole


released January 17, 2020

Out on:
WOOAAARGH / 7Deegrees Records / Doomrock Mailorder-Label

all music by serpent eater
artwork and lyrics by gunnar “nekroboy” ronge
recorded and mixed by andy at goblin sound studio, köln.
mastered at monoposto, düsseldorf


all rights reserved



SERPENT EA†ER Cologne, Germany

† SL † SO † PC † GR † DW †

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