witheren

Tales of quiet desperation.  |  Music at witheren.bandcamp.com

[witheren]

[witheren]

Reprise, by Witheren

9 track album

[witheren]

Depleted Men, by Witheren

7 track album

[witheren]

Chain Of Destruction, by Witheren

6 track album

[witheren]

https://witheren.bandcamp.com/album/lost

[witheren]

[witheren]

https://witheren.bandcamp.com/album/when-sorrows-come

[witheren]

By The Way, I Stole These Songs, by Witheren

8 track album

[witheren]

Votive Lives, by Witheren

21 track album

[witheren]

The winds whisper A funeral call Parting the shroud, Bidding branches rise and fall. In this waste Found through years, Lost in haste. You enlisted to save Something that never was For a pledge never made By a group you never joined. For the skies they promise, The horizons they choose, The soil they possess... These hands they'll use Until your final breath. It's a death Not worth dying for.

[witheren]

Who The Fuck Am I?

Who the fuck am I to act as if I know the first thing of pain? And yet it feels so excruciating, walking lines between you and me and sanity. The urge to jump under a train, the strain of this anxiety. Selling my soul cheap to keep at bay aching melancholy of the huge gaping naught where my heart could have been. The sole battle I fought, the only blood I've seen is mine... And I ain't got much left as I take a right turn and a wrong decision, barreling me burning down Desolation Row, where the bodies feed the crows. May I taste worst than most. (Bet I make a shitty ghost.) For if I did what I deemed just, I would land myself at best in a cell about nine feet wide, my insanity decried by a few headlines and all too soon forgotten in the passage of time. I hate with a passion once reserved for love. I fly like a bullet, not a dove.

[witheren]

The Clouds

The clouds are sitting low tonight: A lid reflecting the streetlights. The world seems small under this tree, There's only room for you and me...

An eerie glow hangs over town 'Til sun comes up and I go down, Still swimming in that cheap whiskey. I'll sleep until it wakens me...

To visions of other cities, Reviewing plans and memories Without making any headway: Last year I planned to leave today...

To leave this long forgotten place, But I'll never forget your face; I'll find a tree just like our own And sit beneath it in the stones...

And watch the moon reflect the lights, The sun, the stars, the empty skies, And in a way reflect your gaze As you look up so far aways.

And watch the moon reflect the lights, The sun, the stars, the empty skies, And in a way reflect your gaze As you look up so far aways.

[witheren]

If we do all share this thirst

So empty, yet I could burst. Serve me a pint of liquid sadness; it won't fill me, just quench the thirst for a moment of lightness in a light so cold shining through November evenings on uneven cobblestones. Even though they're rough and tough, I could lie on them like a feather bed, like I lie dead in my head, or like I lie to your face that my day's okay as you do the same with me. Another missed opportunity: looking at opposite walls of the same alleyway, saying ours is bright when they're both greyer than grey. But the connection can't be made; our fuses blown by all those times we tried and failed to go unveiled. But shall we try just one last time...?

Serve me a brew malted in waters salted by faulted fears and years of tears. Tell me your shadows, I'll pour you mine, and we can share a wine christened by the gods inside rather than the ones up high. If neither can save us, I'd rather look to you than up to the sky. Let us strike our little matches and illuminate the scratches we carved into our corners of eternity. A flame shared can mean a life spared. A gaze can meet or look beyond into the vastness of despair. Into specks of dust holding mountains of vulnerability. Into droplets of mist holding oceans of anxiety. Into a stained rag's thread holding entire tapestries. These insignificant magnitudes... I've glimpsed them in you. Perhaps the reverse is true?

If we do all share this thirst, blessed be the one who pours their spirit first. 

[witheren]

A bracketed reverie

We live a picture of horror and beauty. But when the knife's in, forget a blade's finery. Clench an extremity. Refer to the script: a docket of sneers. Keep running the gears while another steers. There'll be no bringer of brighter days. This rage of a thousand suns will remain stowed away. But it leaves flickers behind. They pace little circles in this insular mind. Lick chewed fingers of uncertainty. Swim pools of desperation and fear-filled arteries. Slotted between two nightmares: a recurring dream of a hand on a gun and my premiers and gods in the cold steel sights. Gone with the sighs. Just stab those lustful eyes. Take an axe to patrimony. A keg and a fuse to monumentality. End unending victory. A last cartridge for me: shake back to reality. A bracketed reverie. Reduce it to fantasy. Ask the man in the coat for little boxes to cope. It's not so bad, I see. Turns out the problem was me.

[witheren]

Even your face Is melting in your hands. Or are those just tears That are running down your arms? I guess it's no cause for alarm.

[witheren]

Weekend sadness: Despair on your own time. As billboard smiles leave your jawline, And greedy thoughts Collect on the subprimes Of fortitude that you took out To make it just a little further.

[witheren]

A pledge never made

The winds whisper a funeral call, Bidding banners rise and fall In a field of waste.

Found through years, Lost in haste.

You enlisted to save A past that never was For a pledge never made By a group you never joined.

For the skies they promise, The horizons they choose, The soil they possess, And these hands they'll use Until your final breath.

It's a death Not worth dying for.