"From Below" is a concept album about a family that knows nothing but agony and death. The songs tell the chronological story of an imprisoned son of that family and his release.
All tracks written, recorded, mixed and mastered by Marius Strand at The Fall Of Every Season Studio during months of August and September 2006
"Escape Of The Dove" is especially dedicated to his love, Reneé Bernhardsen Fagerøi
1. From Below
In the midst of these crying walls
past and presence formed,
yet memories were never kept alive.
If they were to, they'd swallow every bit of hope.
A day to see light rise.
Watch paint spread under the tyrian sky.
Feeding on ascending rays.
Carried by emotion. A day to be.
But inside was a thundering rage.
A merciless storm under tranquillized control.
Bearable silence until the unbearable awoke.
Lived in this nightmare, this prideless coffin,
buried below, but not below ground.
Between the cracks, observed a hopeless destiny.
The guardian, the lock, the detestec lack of possibility.
Devouring effect.
Called beyond this life, beyond this god.
Screeches echoed in apathic surroundings,
only to reach who he didn't call.
So in the midst of these crying walls
past and presence formed,
yet memories were never kept alive.
It they were to, they'd swallow every bit of hope.
A day to see light rise.
2. Sisyphean
Searched without his eyes,
behind the sun.
Kept wandering hopelessly.
From time he could never run.
Still this place had silence.
His moment of warmth.
This place, a mere mirror
with filters he wished could last.
The mirror always walked away.
Regained sight was to come.
Day's sleep was the only relief,
but still he came treasureless home.
3. The Triumphant Beast
Agony, a melody.
On pain i feed.
To see you in this state,
victorious feast.
I love you, still you are
part of me.
I fi only avoid
those pitiful eyes,
my voice in your cries.
Mind was ruined
by the rape of conscience.
Could no longer be the carrier
of this growing tumor.
One last pleasure.
One last wound.
Please forgive me.
Never felt your father's love.
Exhaled his breath of rage,
the last of their kind.
Chanting from black outside,
as he pulled his death out from the closet.
Steps of hope.
Rough, red release.
Vast, dark, encouraging trees.
What remained was a finger's strength.
Demons danced.
Ghouls awaiting
sinner meal.
The finger pressed.
4. Escape Of The Dove
Trapped amongst them.
Accepted their treatment.
Dove amongst crows.
Lack of fulfillment.
Born in that state,
never to ponder.
Still there was light.
The dove learned to wonder.
Is this all there is?
Broadened horizons,
ready for new ground.
Possessed a strong flame now.
He felt free somehow.
5. Her Withering Petals
A manifest of this crucified hope.
Familiar sound, reflecting his own blood.
Haunting, yet intriguing.
No watcher, no lock,
only the sweet voice.
Daringly stepped out
to see things clear.
Gone before he could see the face.
Left was urge to seek.
Drops of autumn fell
on trembling leaves,
red from summer's departure,
weak from lack of light.
The Leaves were torn and so was he,
as he tried to follow her trace.
A winterly wind embraced his throat
and tried its best to strangle.
What kept him going was what had left him.
It was what he couldn't keep.
Kept hunting ancient traces,
following flickering lights.
This ghost was sculpted by his
desire to say goodbye.
Could left the hollow sky,
as it swallowed all its sorrow.
Nearly breathless,
he grasped the nearest branch.
The voice reappeared,
and now he felt sure that it was her,
so he did his best
to force his feet along.
A scarlet dress in the wind.
Shadows on stumps of once mighty trees
spread rumors of her presence.
Looked into her eyes and took her hand.
This imagined warm touch was his relief.
Kneeling at her feet, ready for his sleep.
Had no longer wish to arise.
Put her arm around him, no more cries.
Slept there until the fierce cold awoke
to erase all tracks of life.
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But inside was a thundering rage.
A merciless storm under tranquillized control.
Bearable silence until the unbearable awoke.
Lived in this nightmare, this prideless coffin,
buried below, but not below ground.
Between the cracks, observed a hopeless destiny.
The guardian, the lock, the detestec lack of possibility.
Devouring effect.
Called beyond this life, beyond this god.
Screeches echoed in apathic surroundings,
only to reach who he didn't call.
So in the midst of these crying walls
past and presence formed,
yet memories were never kept alive.
It they were to, they'd swallow every bit of hope.
A day to see light rise.
2. Sisyphean
Searched without his eyes,
behind the sun.
Kept wandering hopelessly.
From time he could never run.
Still this place had silence.
His moment of warmth.
This place, a mere mirror
with filters he wished could last.
The mirror always walked away.
Regained sight was to come.
Day's sleep was the only relief,
but still he came treasureless home.
3. The Triumphant Beast
Agony, a melody.
On pain i feed.
To see you in this state,
victorious feast.
I love you, still you are
part of me.
I fi only avoid
those pitiful eyes,
my voice in your cries.
Mind was ruined
by the rape of conscience.
Could no longer be the carrier
of this growing tumor.
One last pleasure.
One last wound.
Please forgive me.
Never felt your father's love.
Exhaled his breath of rage,
the last of their kind.
Chanting from black outside,
as he pulled his death out from the closet.
Steps of hope.
Rough, red release.
Vast, dark, encouraging trees.
What remained was a finger's strength.
Demons danced.
Ghouls awaiting
sinner meal.
The finger pressed.
4. Escape Of The Dove
Trapped amongst them.
Accepted their treatment.
Dove amongst crows.
Lack of fulfillment.
Born in that state,
never to ponder.
Still there was light.
The dove learned to wonder.
Is this all there is?
Broadened horizons,
ready for new ground.
Possessed a strong flame now.
He felt free somehow.
5. Her Withering Petals
A manifest of this crucified hope.
Familiar sound, reflecting his own blood.
Haunting, yet intriguing.
No watcher, no lock,
only the sweet voice.
Daringly stepped out
to see things clear.
Gone before he could see the face.
Left was urge to seek.
Drops of autumn fell
on trembling leaves,
red from summer's departure,
weak from lack of light.
The Leaves were torn and so was he,
as he tried to follow her trace.
A winterly wind embraced his throat
and tried its best to strangle.
What kept him going was what had left him.
It was what he couldn't keep.
Kept hunting ancient traces,
following flickering lights.
This ghost was sculpted by his
desire to say goodbye.
Could left the hollow sky,
as it swallowed all its sorrow.
Nearly breathless,
he grasped the nearest branch.
The voice reappeared,
and now he felt sure that it was her,
so he did his best
to force his feet along.
A scarlet dress in the wind.
Shadows on stumps of once mighty trees
spread rumors of her presence.
Looked into her eyes and took her hand.
This imagined warm touch was his relief.
Kneeling at her feet, ready for his sleep.
Had no longer wish to arise.
Put her arm around him, no more cries.
Slept there until the fierce cold awoke
to erase all tracks of life.