I’ve been wanting to put together a music album since the time I was a university student – this being quite a while back. It’s a project I work on whenever I have the luxury of extra time and the mood strikes.
Though I anticipate its completed quality falling far short of this ideal, these often angry, sometimes sorrowful, and occasionally loving semi-industrial songs intend to in some ways emulate the likes of Nine Inch Nails, Tom Waits, and Leonard Cohen – all of which I greatly admire musically.
Believing the cover art to be finalized, I’m presenting the prospective album – with “Enteleion” as the updated band name – as an indicator of one of my many current projects.
Following are sample lyrics from the album:
“The Heretic”
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, an ugly duckling was birthed into this world. He was hated, and he was jeered, and the angels never did lend him their ears. In time, his heart only further grew, and his status changed, but the ugliness … of his world never did go away. At the village trial, he was recorded as having had this to say:
How many more times must I die before this bleeding heart ceases to grieve? How many more times must I love entities whose existence cease? How many more times must I fight before this never-ending battle is resolved? How many more times must I shed these tears of sweat and blood?
Spin your invented truths any way you please. Perjure away the dignity of my deeds. I will not concede. Call me pretty, call me ugly, you shall never touch my stain. Call me cruel, call me kind, in me you will always see the reflections of what you gave. Heresy.
For my dissent to your jaundiced views, through ostracism and torture you sought to teach me my lessons of blindly obeying you. But the only thing you’ve taught in these classrooms of life is that malice is a weapon of cowards, that devils will hide behind the church’s facade, and that, live or die, to rebel against duplicity and autocrats is a God-given right. Heresy.
Be it within invisible cages, atop earthly gallows, or amid celestial flights, no matter where, what one makes of the freedom of one’s soul shall always remain a state of mind. I’ve never claimed to be smart. I’ve never claimed to be strong. I’ve never claimed to have liked all the things I have done. But take a deep look into this wolf’s quixotic eyes and maybe you will see that part of me that can never die. Heresy.
When a human struggles for virtue and verity in a land where vices take on the label of the good, the person ends up hated and forsaken for the stability of a corrupt status quo. This like an unkissable hunchback mocked by frogs. Like a desecrated saint granted not even the sanctity of a cross. Like a wolf ,,, among dogs!
Michael W Moiceanu 