1. |
Our Fields Are Burning
01:59
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It is the portion of every man to strive and to toil and to suffer, for he is born out of time conflicted, out of unexpectation - born between loins of pain an of joy. And there is in all of this the persistent truth that all is vanity and all is chasing after the wind. From dust we came, and to dust we shall return. All, all is vanity.
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2. |
June 2, 1910
09:38
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This cursing and striving and toiling
A burden on our name
Drug through the dirt and covered
And buried in shame
Born from a womb of rebellion and illness
You are the end of our days
Severing Mother's cord
And our own line
Camphor and sulphur filled my lungs
In your former days I breathed vapors
Of your innocence and your purity
in sarsparilla twilight
When time still bore weight
Like iron on the sea floor
Red dress betrayal on an April night
A deal made long before
To our dismay and disproof
Our brother, mute, dumb, and afflicted,
Dug up your transgression
Amber eyes turn away from us
I hate him for ruining you.
I hate you for ruining me.
False confessions to cover your whoring around
And father only half-believed
We stood naked and nervous
Covered in nothing but night
I will hold you in this horror, this hell
As time is destroyed under my blood
Thievery in houses unkempt
Deceit upon my dresser but not looking but at me
in the dusty mirror
Fabric of time torn under my life
I will hold you in this horror, this hell
As I drown under summer twilight
And inhale camphor burning my lungs
This letter will not be good until tomorrow
And when He says rise my blue eyes will rise
Through fathomed depths to see Glory
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3. |
Sinking
06:42
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Blackened core
Contagious soul disease
You are the cancer that just moved in
Needles under your mattress
Give me the only narrative I'll ever need
Our center cannot hold
All that was and is and could ever be has dried
Withered
Rotting and writhing under a noonday sun
Terminal decline of our condition
The walls crumble and fade as we fill dead air
With empty words, with nothing
Your lies are ivy growing up the walls
We buried you 'neath the floorboards and considered it done
A heaving sigh of relief passed our lips
Our line has ended
But your blood has corrupted us
This cancer passed down
By sin-bearing, abandoning fathers
Every whisper brings a scream to my ears
Every slightest touch brings decay
A flourish of hate draws a line in the sand
We are a house divided.
Watch us crumble.
We are a house divided and dead.
The house of Usher is no more.
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4. |
Rainroom
06:44
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5. |
Serpent Sovereign
04:11
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The song you sing is a long dusty exhale, the last in a frail body of pride. We watched decay enter your frame. Low tide covers your stained wood floor with disuse. Wallpaper peels off to reveal the scabs of decades, your walls teeming with insects. They spoke to me in hissing tongues, serpentine and sly, and took their lordship of a sinking foundation.
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Old Thunder Kentucky
Solo studio project based in northeastern KY. Old Thunder explores themes of suffering, loss, and redemption, inspired by life and literature alike.
Defunct as of early 2018. Thanks for the support.
Old Thunder recommends:
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My brother in Twilight Fauna creates soundscapes with a massive atmosphere, borrowing from black metal, native Appalachian music, and post-rock. Incredible material.
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This album is everything you could want from a twilight fauna album. Dark and heavy and Appalachian as fuck. Folky, moss covered, dew dripping insanity. It’s absolutely perfect.
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Remember in the 1930s when the sheriff and the mine owners conspired to kill strikers in Harlan county to break the strike? I'm sure Panopticon remembers.
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