Get all 5 Gavino Mariano Mura releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Fear & Agony, Incantations: Florentine Cabaret, Rituals: Soundtracks, Incantations: Blasphemous Blood, and Incantations: Il Trucco Del Passato.
1. |
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Raise your hands: surrender to
My transcendental flame.
Rest your head upon my breast:
Let poetry take the blame.
Scarlet skies, blue seas, green islands,
I’ll present to you, my dear.
Sing for me, now: sing your songs
Of agony and fear.
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2. |
Pandora
04:14
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Our words dissolve in fear
As a stray groan
Betrays the offence:
Someone has unsealed
And hollowed out
The universe.
Distortion pricks our ears
As asymmetry
Pierces our eyes:
Someone has unsealed
And hollowed out
Our minds.
Be still, my heart:
The lotus will wipe away
The tears you cried.
And if the nightmare comes,
Just tell her you’re way
Too tired to ride.
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3. |
The Books Of Hell
04:49
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One more stroke of fear to start
Provoking all those vacuous eyes.
Disdain is just a simple matter
Of self-preservation.
Watch them as they lose control,
Display what they conceal and
Tell yourself the choice you made
Was not dictated by your fate.
Was it a ghost that quoted Yeats
And mentioned Strindberg
To fix the blame?
This bathroom wall’s all that remains
Of what’s been written
Throughout the ages.
Hell’s a place I’m getting used to,
A cesspool of mediocre brutes.
I claimed I was the blessed one,
Well, it’s bliss that dragged me down.
But after all, I can’t complain.
I’ve got some books of poems and plays
And, yeah, the amusement’s gone but, still,
Their fundamental truth remains.
Was it a ghost that quoted Yeats
And mentioned Strindberg
To fix the blame?
This bathroom wall’s all that remains
Of what’s been written
Throughout the ages.
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4. |
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Can you hear the deep white noise
That heralds the executioner?
It mauls the crags and madly yells:
“Don’t waste your pleas. The sickle’s deaf.”
Oh, prick my ears: I don’t want to hear.
Unbind my mind: let me dream and dream again
Of the harmony of our mythical metropolis,
Of the symmetry of its spectral inhabitants.
Can you see the bright black light
That carries the executioner?
It blights the steppe, it bares the wile
And shows us that the sickle’s blind.
Oh, pierce my eyes: I don't want to see.
Unbind my mind: let me dream and dream again
Of you… Of you… Of you… Of you…
Oh, stab my heart: I don’t want to feel.
Unbind my mind: let me dream and dream again
Of the harmony of our mythical metropolis,
Of the symmetry of its spectral inhabitants.
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5. |
Prometheus
04:17
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As life begins to slow,
I sense your impotent gaze on me.
Sure, everything's fine!
I’m just chained up to my first act.
Please look into my eyes:
Why can't you understand I'm still alive?
Yes, I’ll survive
This brutal pantomime.
I once stole their fire.
As life begins to shrink,
I hear your heartbeat echo in my
Skull. Stop mourning now.
Just wait for my liver to regrow
Tonight. Will you deny we've got
A future when you see I'm still alive?
Yes, I'll survive
This brutal pantomime.
I once stole their fire.
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6. |
The Concept Of Tragedy
05:54
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The philosopher
And the oldest trick in the book:
“If thinking leads to language,
And language leads to thinking,
We can deduce that knowledge
Stems from both in equal measure.”
“Just put your trust in logic,
And we will find the root
Of your disorder.”
And the concept of tragedy was born.
My words came pouring down,
And I drowned in sense and reason.
The scientist
And the fight or flight response:
“If chemistry's the answer,
And the answer lies within,
We can assume that sorrow
Is a question of synapses.”
“Just put your trust in medicine,
And we will find the cure
For your disorder.”
And the concept of tragedy was born.
My words came pouring down,
And I drowned in sense and reason.
And the plague spread in no time.
My flesh evaporated,
And I died of thirst for blood.
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7. |
Sisyphus
03:36
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I always tried to fail.
I always failed to try.
I tried to find some symmetry.
I failed to mention why.
My mind's a perfect sphere,
A tidy globe of theories,
Smooth and abstract,
Real and compact,
Overpacked with queries.
Push the earth up to your neck.
Let the earth roll off your shoulder.
Push your head up to the hill.
Let your head roll like a boulder.
I always tried to live.
I always failed to die.
I tried to touch, to pray, to sin.
I failed to rectify.
The earth's a perfect sphere,
A maze of oil refineries,
An energetic, synergetic
Septic tank of harmonies.
Push the earth up to your neck.
Let the earth roll off your shoulder.
Push your head up to the hill.
Let your head roll like a boulder.
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8. |
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A dull pain in your chest exhales
A thousand sighs you left unsung.
Remorse runs smoothly in your blood,
But it won’t soothe your torpid heart.
The sirens laugh and call you again.
You see them grin
Above the surface of the sea.
Now perfume violates your brain
With secrets you have always known.
Delight reveals his garden waits
Beyond the lies you haven’t told.
The sirens laugh and call you again.
You see them grin
Above the surface of the sea.
And you crave the imprudence of their skin.
But what’s the point in craving
What you don’t know?
And you crave the acceptance of their breath.
But what’s the point in craving
What you don’t need?
You close your eyes, you close your ears
And mouth five-hundred-year-old words.
“Appease your troubled heart”, you sing,
While wondering when your heart will blow.
The sirens laugh and call you again.
You see them grin
Above the surface of the sea.
And you crave the imprudence of their skin.
But what’s the point in craving
What you don’t know?
And you crave the acceptance of their breath.
But what’s the point in craving
What you don’t need?
And you crave the virtue of their eyes.
But what’s the point in craving
What you can’t see?
And you crave the inflection of their hearts.
But what’s the point in craving
What you can’t hear?
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9. |
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We saw their flesh rotting,
Their bones turning to clay.
He said: “It’s the Apocalypse.”
I said: “Just a play.”
We walked on the rubble
Of the Tower of Babel.
He said: “We’ll be history.”
I said: “Just a fable.”
Yet I find myself shuddering
At the syncopated tune
Of my own breath.
Death is a thought
I can ignore
No more.
My friend was no idiot,
And to me, this was clear.
He just asked me in my dispassion
To comprehend his fear.
My friend transmuted hearts
Made of lead into gold
While I just conjured demons
For fear of getting old.
Now I find myself shuddering
At the syncopated tune
Of my own breath.
Death is a thought
I can ignore
No more.
The last time I saw him,
He’d been tied up in chains.
They had shattered his head,
They had trodden on his brain.
The last time I heard of him,
I was wrapped up in shame.
I groaned, it was agony,
And I cried out his name.
So I find myself shuddering
At the syncopated tune
Of my own breath.
Death is a thought
I can ignore
No more.
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10. |
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When I’m alone, I’ll fall into
Antique Italian dreams, among
Thoughts made of marble, tears of paint
And ghosts mouthing rhymes.
In churches built of human blood,
I’ll listen to God’s harmony.
And when I return, I’ll tell
Everyone of my secret life.
Who would really comprehend my words?
Who would try to understand
Who I really am?
For now, I’d better hold my tongue
And work on some new cryptic lines,
While German songs and Indian chants
Try hard to overcome the noise.
We all belong to it now, and to
The unbridled Irish wind,
A frenzied oracle of hope that
Speaks in tongues and we can’t see.
Who would really comprehend his words?
Who would try to understand
Who he really is?
Who would really comprehend our words?
Who would try to understand
Who we really are?
A floating world would be enough
For me to face a sudden change,
Although my poor, chaotic talk
Would force me to lie ceaselessly.
Concealed behind the shadows
Of countless Japanese identities,
I’d greet the darkness, kneel
And, lastly, enjoy my solitude.
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