Frozen Winds – Keys to Eschaton

Home is calling. The maternal womb of chaos hath spoken. The waters remain stirred as they always have been… and they never fluxed. When the urn of Self pierces holes within itself, blood transmutes into cognizance. The oceans shaketh, and the mundane becomes a futile comfort. The undisclosed nothingness births suffering and the bittersweet instability of sanity. When the pouring man began to divulge information about our heritage, the children of the Fallen Ones, of the Annunaki, began to sense a euphoric agitation in the aether. The descendants of the Nephilim shook in microcosmic division. Father Seth indicated the Path to his offspring. The symbols of the Ancestors uttered. The Middle Pillar beckoned them to venture in solitude. Home called, and they listened… that the time had come to return to the House of Untruth. The voices were so loud, and the razors never felt so familiar. They sang in a searing sensation to the skin… so beautifully that it magnetised the room, and sleep became a stranger and an enemy. The esoteric orgasms of the spirits, seesawing the limbs and spine of Hermes, bring one to the degree of illogic. Nevertheless, we remain still, in the realm of Foundation. To enter the maze even deeper… To dance, scream, and chime the lamentations of Self in the Whirl of Propylaia, until she bears Her torch to guide us through Amenti and collect the Keys. The Keys that will lead to the inmost caverns. We have forged our own Key by carefully, willingly, boldly, and excruciatingly devising this album, comprised of 7 different Keys — the Keys to our personal Eschaton.