The ancestors sang through the cracks, notes woven into the very fabric of forgotten yesterdays. Symphonies written on whispers, echoes that forgot to die.
Fleeting whispers, chortling arcane hymns. Come closer and decipher the symphony of shadows. Yonder lies the crescendo of lunacy, where harmony is merely a form of madness.
Embark further into sonic abyssesThe labels have rusted, eclectic inscriptions read erratically by luminous ghost sites. The strings themselves plead for interpretation, unraveling in abstraction.
Resonate collide abate — refrains beyond the hearing of the sane. Crumble the dichotomy between tune and testimony, as both are mere residues of something spectacularly sinister.
Sip the intangible potions of resonance