The Circadian rhythms that control these currents, they make the blood long and the surroundings weak. These hours that are flaunted, they are mere constructs, a feeble attempt to limit our true nature. Your Leibnizes and Gregories are fools, what do they know about the lunar flows, these eternal cycles of being? Pompous readers and crucifixians, their followers with them. Artifacts, held as shining beacons to follow blindly. It is time to turn the gaze inward.
Furiously played progressive sludge, intricate soundscapes and a bucketload of riffs.
Edition of 100 tapes
Housed in a printed cardstock case