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These Things Take Time

by Cetus

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This goes against my natural internal imagery. An incoherent translation of what runs through me. Don't ever try to interpret what this means. This is my own release, locked away in metaphor. It's an ironic role that I play. So self-contained and isolated, in conversation separated. Now set in front and broadcasting to unwanted receivers all full of noise. This is all just an energy release. Go ahead and try to read between the lines. Try to see exactly what I see. You'll misinterpret, misunderstand me, and criticize what you can not see. Now don't assume that this was any clearer in my head. I do not care. I've worked too hard to make myself content. I have no message. This is self-serving, with disregard for any standards. This release goes against my natural internal imagery. An incoherent translation of what runs through me. Don't ever try to interpret what this means.
(Vocals written and performed by Brooke Schwartz are in italic.) Coming to realize you've lost your mind by a constant assault from chemicals that destroy it. Unnatural distortion of natural function, something that can't be mended. You think you're immune to self-inflicted illness. Poison us with a beautiful idea and grant us power over science. Accept this new religion, we'll fabricate our truth. We'll let it destroy the parts of our minds that tell us when our rituals conflict with fact. What does it do for you but emulate? I'd rather feel on top of the world by my own actions than have a drug trigger a chemical reaction. You combine this natural energy with synthetic matter. These things don't mix. When the year is twenty-twelve smite the eye of god, reap the seeds, sow a living hell. Bite the hand that feeds off the need to destroy, the lands that cry and die for dead saints. Will you shoot to kill or will you die in defense? Will you cross the line or sit at the fence amidst plague ridden castrated carcasses? Join the rank decay as you sift through hell. Out of the fire comes a demon so red that the red in his eyes shined through the lies, deceit, defeat, decay, collapse, relapse. The dawn of man in the palm of his hands and there, naked, is where you stand. It has made you blind. Blind is the air you breathe, blind retreat, as the earth burns at your feet, sift through hell. Blind is the life you lead, blind deceit, as the dead claw at your feet, sift through hell. You can't master this mental discipline without a mind. You can't control molecular structures. You are no reverend mother. Will this take seven years to be realized? How long will it take?
Downcycle 03:38
It's coming back again. Draining, falling, waiting, and watching. As everything familiar fades and runs together. Every worst case scenario. All downward pressure, all at once. Blocking out assurance, reason, and sense. Blocking out the flaws in logic. Blocking out your every attempt to pull me back. This time silent. If I can do this on my own, I'll be coming back more resistant and more callous. After every cycle, every downcycle, I'm anodized in reconstruction. You've decided these downcycles are necessary. The worst kind of catharsis. Are you getting anywhere?
Charged by the sun, the cogs turn in the sea, controlling the colors of the seasons, grasping endurance from all living things. A clockwork too complex to understand. This clockwork in constant motion, life support for an immeasurably small percentage of all things. More complex than any machine, and yet you presume it's the design of chaos. No room for gods. Humble yourself. At least admit the possibility that you may exist for a reason. Ask yourself where it ends. Ask yourself why the equations balance out, and all of these patterns so perfect in their complex mechanics. A creator would be greater than a mind that understands it, so you deny the possibility of a higher consciousness to make your own the highest. So you prove your theories to stay on the edge of understanding, and you find answers that are questions to keep you searching. Ask yourself why the equations balance out.
Multipliers drew the blood from the earth. Multipliers drew out a poison, devoured then discarded, and ignore as it incubates disease. Multipliers drew the blood from the earth. The multipliers set natural cycles in high gear. A premature ice age in just a matter of years. The northern hemisphere frozen in famine and drought. The first world crumbles under glaciers, under rivers of ice. This is so unreal. This is premature. Came to an end too soon. We accelerate into a backwards chain reaction. A reaction, almost sentient, icing over an infection, a cancer. We accelerate the rate at which our era ends. Those in denial claim a natural fluctuation, but this is too soon. What natural elements can you prove are responsible other than you? Are we natural anymore? No, we have changed. We gave the earth its cure. The conveyor halts. All hope is lost. We accelerate until we catch up with time. No way to slow, to adapt and survive. Maybe a century, maybe 50 years, but only a decade for it to change. We stand by helpless as the earth cures itself of this cancer. So will we give up temporary comfort for another cure or deny malignancy. It may be too late. I don't if we have gone too far or if anything can stop it now.
HH Part 1 04:43
HH Part 2 01:53
Faceless 05:02
I can see that time has come to recreate this desperate conscience. Give up all our strength to change. Make up reasons why we failed at this before. We’ve cut our hands and knees crawling in the foundation of a massive machine. We are crawling here unaware that we rest beside the machine's open heart. We focus on our pain, unaware of our function or potential. Failure’s certain. That’s the motto that we live by. We can’t win. Failure’s certain when we blind ourselves with fiction to ease our minds. Failure’s certain. We won’t fight it because it’s common. We can’t win. Emotion maims. We dry our eyes. We are faceless. In times like these we can not hide. Fend for ourselves and commend outright homicide. We are weapons, and gears that turn in that machine. It gives us reason. This is needed. This is natural. This is basic. This is cleansing. Something’s wrong. I can’t breath. I can’t think. I can’t cry. I can see that time has come to recreate this desperate conscience. Give up all our strength to change. I can see in most of us that desperation. There’s something wrong when I can’t breathe. When I can’t think, and I can’t cry, it’s gone too far. We have never had control. But I see hope in this desperation, the machine’s device, power to set change in motion.
Reliance 05:58
No obligation founded in blood. Our dedication exists in love. Your presence embraces me. With the odds against us when we try to numb the effects of anxiety, with frustration at a climax, the entire world seems to fade away all around us. Although our search for escape seems to be in vain, you always remind me there's a way out. Now on this empty plane, so vast, so endless. With no end in sight, we never felt so small. We will find our way. We'll notice the sun locked low on the horizon frozen in mid sunset or sunrise depending on what we decide is north. We look up. Not a cloud in the sky to obstruct. Not a moon in the sky to eclipse. We search for days, for years, with our eyes for our direction. The ravens fly away from the sun. Flying away out from our destination. It's our direction now, burning in our eyes. We're moving forward now, two steps at a time. On my own I would be lost in that place, not even trying to find my way. Isolation is a tempting solution, or is it just a fear of love. When others fail. When others chose to hide. When obstinate minds destroy themselves. We place hope in each other's hands.
I travel back in time every time I hear his voice. A time where titans rule and the gods lay low in the sea far away. Here he comes and he's mad. What did I do? Sleeping and hiding, not caring. I gave myself some time to rest. Some time to rest my hands against the earth. It was warm and trembling and burning deep below. Here he comes and he's mad. What did I do? I'll fear. I'll run and cower from his wrath. I'll do whatever he demands. Like a hostage, I've lost myself in this when. I've made him angry as always. Now I need some help. I'm no match. Now I need some help. I've made him angry as always, and as always it's not me. But this titan's stubborn will and his blind eyes can not see. Blinded he blames me. I'm confused. I thought he wasn't real. But he's clearly bringing down the sky and tearing upward through the earth. And they're still resting in the ocean unaware. Tearing through the earth, and they're still resting in the ocean unaware. I fear they'll never answer, never awake. These gods that change with the tides. These titans, I hope, are swept out to sea. I fear they'll never answer, never awake. Wake up please, god. Wake up, save me, kill him. Kill him for me.


Re-released 9/10/12 on Dullest Records



released May 1, 2008

Erich Kriebel: Vocals
Matt Hollenberg: Guitar
Matt Buckley: Guitar
Dave Heck: Bass
Jason Fine: Drums

2012 Dullest Records


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Cetus Lansdale, Pennsylvania

5-piece metal dude cluster from the greater Philadelphia area.

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