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In the Art of My Caged Existence

by Woewarden

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H.L. WOEWARDEN present a thrilling depressive black metal debut. Most exciting are the soul-touching guitars and the variety of vocals from defiant, desperate shrieks over black metal screams to growls and even spoken words. The vocals aren't dominant but well integrated in the organic, unpolished and atmospheric sound. Outstanding as well is the songwriting as many songs are catchy and full of own character, that is not always the case in that genre. Check "The Name of Suffering" or "Degenerate ". Favorite track: The Name of Suffering.
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Ravelled 05:17
Ravelled in the oblong nightmare Gleaming through the murmuring rain With each deluge I drink a river Trying to drown the world Vilify my worthless life Decrepit in the agony There’s no release Masturbating myself to sleep Like starving infants begging for mother’s milk Writhing for reprieve Molesting my senses Sinking under my own weight Acquainted with riches, but never fortune Plunging over the cliff’s weeping face And whether or not this trek is final Nature never answers The machine of dreaming Deeper it carves Forcing infinite into chambers Bleed a narrowing enclosing path
Father, killer of all knowing Bringer of endless births of suffering Drag us through the rusty nails once again And breathe that old stench of our slow decay Building prisons within prisons Trapped within ourselves in isolation Time begets growth in these dying cells The furtherance of hell to here on earth If this life’s your gift, its promise is death Wrenching souls to dust in autumn air Clogging lungs and breaking ribs Starving the populace to chew at their limbs And though our flesh transparent and bones in colourless form Ghouls marching lockstep consigned to history already told Like giants in ivory towers, we eventually do fall The demise of all we know and hold The needled remedy we adorned Means nothing to anything anymore
Excised 04:41
The silence is fleeting The surface, shimmering, bubbling My dreaming birthplace of thought Corrupted, fetid, by a token god The melodrama drips from these walls Excess excised through exercises From he who spoke in tongues Shrouded in privilege, but never discomfort The embodiment of tedium Raping our laughter to dreariness But onward we bow to this blood-tinged altar Desperate wretches thirsting blinding water Drinking narrow sights that dilate to the void Draining warm blood from open veins And as my muscles melt back through the crevices Succumbed to fleet through that surface I sink through the objectiveness To holster a living meaningless
Here I stand, the answers hold no meaning Yet I can’t stop questioning Tonight should be a triumph Vomited away tomorrow Pain knells, the crowd swells An arena choking itself to death A bleak march bleeding in despair Slave-ship in cadence fills the air In the name of suffering We grind ourselves to sleep Opening doorways to grey wastes Never to find the promised land Bent crushing my weak mind Blowtorching the candle at both ends Sober eyes clouded in disillusion My heart can bear no more Pain knells, the crowd swells An arena choking itself to death A bleak march bleeding in despair Slave-ship in cadence fills the air In the name of suffering We grind ourselves to sleep Opening doorways to grey wastes Never to find the promised land In the name of suffering
Caressing helplessness – moving nowhere But everywhere at the same time Weighed down by tectonic plates of steel Forgo freedom, draw in seclusion I’m lost in the detail as the world passes by I die a little more with each word spoken Maybe it floats my ego, maybe it floats my drink To drown tortured souls, deaden the pain Time is fleeting, accursed fettered chain Detach from my aging body to soar through the plains Behind the revolving door of stars Bears a bitter opposing draught Grows moss on my skin To join brethren in the pits But to stop and consider what’s proper, I doubt all is proper Realise it’s all for nothing, plying routes to the great beyond Slump into the futility of life – a wreath of viscera Defeat life in seconds, but souls forever
Degenerate 05:04
The years of boiled down sacrifice Dragging faces against the earth Condense down to this one moment Adjudicate my worth Cut from the stem of favoured ilk unabated The clans unveil the sham My culmination castrated With no fallback ascertained The judgment burrows in my empty brain Wallowing in digested remnants Hiding in the bottom of the barrel A mere filler for paling hunger For a ray of light to flint my soul Banished to exile in a screaming year Watch the crushing reality of defeat in front of me If our memory’s our one real possession We only remember victors A second son in a second-hand world Only ever second best
Alexithymia 05:02
The weaving of the lonely – the edge of an empty blade Stapled together like collages in dimensions of pain We bleed into each other amidst the maelstrom Your haze of paranoia my daydreamed shackles Peel wax off my body – the corpse I drag everywhere A sacrifice boiled into a crucible of tears Still flails and howls Rewarding sadism beyond the sound Loins lathered in acid Open wounds Forged in abandonment A sealed tomb I’m buried in sadness Alexithymia Arguing with my own shadow I left behind And here I realise the scalpel tells everything I hold Death not in suicide, but revolt of the soul For all the strikes one holds, roars in confines, but whimpers in expanse Its judgement defeats us an evanescent romance To tear down the walls that scream And salve these wounds A suffocated heart A life consumed
Heralding the end of punishment Left alone again within myself We escaped confines of inked pools of suffering To mend into a new monster Only to discern a distant voice Mining for past icy wombs A barbed hurricane wried in chaos Riding the knife’s edge of lunacy Entitled to nothing, but screaming for it all Tearing up our open wounds These words mean nothing Writhing snakes and bottomless ladders descending You oozing pustule Shit frosting on a fetid cake Answering them empty winds Prolongs the torments of human scum Course the canopy to throttle them To hell between finger and thumb And though I live to be eviscerated again Shearing skin off my body My words mean nothing Screams of the dying The blade draws more And answers to nobody
Close your eyes, breathe it all in Nary a breath of joy Congealed mucus in my lungs The backstabbing pains, eyes draw heavy I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired Time is my termination In the art of my caged existence Lies a core of utter emptiness Wrap my bones in bile – make everything feel better Tap my pain and sell it to the millions Slogging through this death march The knuckle-dragging fare I tire, I starve Take my energy, take my heart Bound to barren landscape Nailed to conformity In the art of my caged existence Funeral pyres ring through this concrete jungle Suffocate this space – make everything feel better Destroy the mould of me Let filth waft through the air Until my final breath I tire, I starve Take my energy, take my heart I tire, I starve Take my memory, take my heart


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released September 11, 2022

Woewarden is:

John Pescod – Vocals
Dan Jackson – Guitar
Hrodrik André Segovia – Guitar
Thomas Major – Bass
Herb Bennetts – Drums

All music written by Woewarden
© 2022 Woewarden

Vocals recorded by John Pescod in Perth, WA
Guitars and Bass recorded by Dan Jackson in Perth, WA
Drums recorded by Chris Gebauer at Oblivion Studios
Mixing and Mastering by Déhà

Album Artwork by Adam Burke of Nightjar Illustration
Album Photography by JV Photo & Film and Carving a Giant
Album Layout by Marco Ieritano of Digital Scream


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Woewarden Australia

‘In the hands of the creator, I am the nails of every hammer.’

Bleak Atmospheric Black Metal hailing from Perth, Western Australia.

Featuring past and present members of Deadspace, Advent Sorrow, Flesh Worship and Pestilential Shadows, Woewarden blend pummeling percussion, razor sharp guitar work and piercing vocals to weave a desolate tapestry of torment and despair.
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