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In Concretion

by Unprocessed

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1.
Nothing 08:58
We live, the world with us, come and go, like the tide, Solitariness in dying. Awareness in being, The engine of life culls, without anyone knowing. Our breath dies away, the flight of existence, ends in the clouds, where air fades away, where pressure as an infarct, blurs the soul, where we’re noneternal, and the senses run dry. Like fume withers in air, so mellow and vacuous. Thinking, as Patience’s process. The wings for shelter, puissance of winds, who carries us, lets us fall. ‘Cause we sense urge to, experience ourselves to be part of completion. The infinity, as inception, and we the meaning, the aspiration. And creatures can feel, human’s, who dies humanely, thus our mind pours in death, and far we even be, from verity, but mourning’s a human one. And only we feel harm, aeon keeps a word, ‘cause dread is a feeling, meaning life, use in useful life, it is forever in my mind. Meaning life, use in useful life, is forever the presence. Fruition means floating, since beyond means quietus, as long as no one sees, eyes only fill a hole, as we finally mean Nothing to the world. And only we feel harm, aeon keeps a word, ‘cause dread is a feeling, meaning life, use in useful life, it is forever in my mind.
2.
Again the rain falls, the sky opens up. In the gentle haze, the rough streams of your breath will sheen. With the first pounding, a sea breaks open, a colourful light, in lavender, that will absorp you. And everything begins, with a torrent of light. And everything will conclude, In the current of your breath. As all life cleaves, and consolidates, the breathing originates. In this moment of silence, in which As all life cleaves, And consolidates, The breathing originates. Again the rain falls, the sky opens up. In the gentle haze, the rough streams of your light will shine. Breath. When does life commence? – just as cells will merge. Where does time lead us? – till the end of our breath. the water breaks, and the thaw melts – your miracle, gives birth to a fire.
3.
Imagine the end, and now your life. and look down on your bleeding hands, that keep a human warm, who you adore. Imagine this human weeping. Complexity of being, turns emotions into Prudence. Complexity of feelings, they colourise your life. Every impress, makes a bloom awake in us. Now imagine, how the thorns will blossom in you. (Complexity of Feeling) Imagine the end, and now your life. And look down on your bleeding hands, that keep a human tight, who you adore. Imagine then, you are weeping. Complexity of being, turns emotions into Prudence. Complexity of feelings, they colourise your life. Every impress, makes a bloom awake in us. Now imagine, how the thorns will blossom in you. (The Complexity of Feeling)
4.
The longer I watch inside, the stranger I’m becoming to myself. Dim shadows of my soul, throes of emptiness, Still howling, afar, so in flames I feel the chains like a Scathing Embrace. This all since thou, Left your light, To behold how, I bleed. This all since thou, Left your light, To behold how, I bleed.
5.
It’s a free existence in a boundless world, mentally we embrace the horizon. We feed on the source of our gifts and we will construct a home of dead wood. The meaning takes shape in our hands, forwhy the eyes can see and our mind will feel, We educe the love from our deeds, And perceive the world so beautiful, In us. How far is reality, So that we might just realise? We embed us in verity, And won’t conceive all of these lies, What can we see? We live in the pureness of our view, So that we never question the Y in You. How far is reality, So that we might just realise? We embed us in verity, And won’t conceive all of these lies, What can we see?
6.
Distance is everywhere, Events all over the place, The horizon’s so far, but after all, we are a part of him. we see distance in our eyes, Perceive it just through our sight. Aeon’s what we don’t know, Endlessness lives without us, If a man ever saw her, then he’s dead. Nothing’s a lie, Which saves us from the conviction, That Everything’d be reality. Just one more pace, And you’re distance, So just one more trice, And you are existence. Nothing’s endless. What none of us can see, Will not ever be. And we cannot believe. what we can’t conceive. We won’t leave our perspective and we don’t know sanity, thoughts are definitions, as the theory of distance is. The present’s just a feeling, That only exists in us. As long as the world revolves, we are the theory of distance.
7.
And everyday again, streams of violence, the coves of conversance, hollowed by waves of fear, wet with tears. And the bud melts in embers, In the despondent flames of its birth. And he endures it and hopes for the end, that will choke the blaze, in which his sores burn. Senseless, Is his childhood’s sorrow. Timeless, are the throes of her frantic strokes. (Senseless strokes) Upon Leaves Falling.
8.
Now remove your eyes, and behold your splendour. That is the universe. Try to detest, what arose from you. Love your neighbour like yourself. Love your self-perception. Love yourself. The crater of your mind, blooms in the scent of japonicas. But every light, stems from the same sun, that shines for all. Take a bath in her shadows. You see the ideal world, how it shatters in you. Look around you, Whither went your perfection? You bucket from the well, That someone else, had constructed. Lastly, your reflexion gleams, in mediocrity. You feel so lost. The crater of your mind, blooms in the scent of japonicas. But every light, stems from the same sun, That shines for all. Take a bath in her shadows. You see the ideal world.
9.
Theophany 05:25
Still all feels so close, light around us, glances, a silent scent of cinnamon, we so far from now. Every look of gold, the warmth, broiling streams of lechery, all the world extincts, fades as time, Pain of desire. And this night, (we coalesced with us) was to be our life, (before dying in you). And tomorrow, I lie at the end, of the quiet alley of our time. And I flow back to my, Theophany.
10.
A veil upon us, the rain of past, as we flourished, voices of ours, far from your next, the deeper meaning, the tarnished brume of our world, all so vague. Outside. Alike. Charging. Curtain. And we all, Beyond ourselves, In sheer vapour, dark blue. The sense of duty, Invisible, for all around, lost in sense of being, and drowning, in the pond of our life. Fortune covers dread, Fear covers longing. Always shining, towards demise. Beyond the Apron of our lives, where we can feel, where life is real, Views lead nowhere. Inside. Unlike. Giving. Display. And we all, Beyond ourselves, In sheer vapour, dark blue. The sense of duty, Invisible, for all around, lost in sense of being, and drowning, in the pond of our life. Outside. Alike. Charging. Curtain. And we all, Beyond ourselves, In sheer vapour, dark blue. The sense of duty, Invisible, for all around, lost in sense of being, and drowning, in the pond of our life.
11.
Asthenia 05:33
White smoke pervades the dark, and cool damp the limbs. Gravity cloaks the light, Shadows burn before you. A silent sough imbues the night. The monotone sound of time, Sings an elegy of emptiness. And all strength withers, In desire, where it falls. And the swallows drown in bleakness. The moss-covered firmament, Takes the warmth from the world. But the silence burns warmly, – and the wind moans gelidly. The monotone sound of time, Sings an elegy of emptiness. And all strength withers, In desire, where it falls. Everyone feels it, in Asthenia. The compassion – that burns so bright. The confidence – that sinks in light. (And the swallows drown in bleakness) But healing, though, is not in sight.
12.
Something 07:00
The sun lies at my feet, The fields crepitate, still. The night closes in. Warm. The day is gone. I look back and behold, A sea of darkness. My eyes are tired, And sad. Solitude. Sanity. Endurance. Something. For ever. A brook, In me. Solitude. Sanity. Endurance. And the world, keeps so far. Who took the cause, out of my heart? Who gave me this life? And on my flight, of existence, I see infinity. It is not real. The puissance of winds just took it, away. My head rests calmly, with both eyes closed. The world lives, without us too. We are the fume, withering in air. But we are more, than Nothing. We are Something.

about

How weak do we fly,
So every breeze blows us away.
How far is the ocean,
that pours in us,
so lonesome.

From elements of this world,
our heartbeat arises.
In every second,
the flow streams
and runs dry.

The seed becomes a tree,
that blooms in a thousand colours.
And enormous forces,
shake the stem,
until it’s threatened to fall.

There grows a shadow,
that covers us with cold.
A hot stream
of tears flows down
and allows us to ripen.

Will there be a day of insight?
Are we going to see?
Our view keeps numb,
our heart keeps dumb,
this path is dead.

A quiet wind sings,
he is near, when he’s gone.
Where does he lead us?
If we follow him,
we will stay with us.

And all at once there’s grief,
the skies burn.
We will sink,
so helpless
and still.

Crutch is nowhere,
we are faraway.
We grasp at the trunk
and feel the haulm,
that sways in the gale.

But there is shelter and warmth,
we sink into the night.
And shine even clearer,
at daytime, in hours
of remembrance.

A gentle mist lies
over every field.
And if we wipe it away,
a rain blows there,
a rain of shame.

We like to disappear thereunder,
to rest in ourselves.
The mellow view so cheerful,
the drab world colourful,
sans doing anything.

And the eve arrives,
putting his arm around us.
Thoughts recede so glistening,
silently, the wind will die,
in which the bleak branches sway,
in which we still live today.

credits

released April 14, 2014

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Unprocessed Wiesbaden, Germany

What’s in a name? Unprocessed as a word defines something raw and untouched. And yet, the connotation is somewhat arbitrary when combined with the band’s innate ability to constantly develop and experiment with a sound that although is entirely derivative of raw and natural skill, is futuristic, progressive and multifaceted in nature. ... more

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