Welcome to the Madhouse,
The shelter for outcasts,
The cemetery of hopes,
Which are haunted by past.
You are always welcome,
All arriving guests.
The souls who have lost their names,
Here will find despair.
Cut off from the sun forever,
Pale shadows roam.
And the shackles on the feet
Are lighter than the chains inside.
Strange signs on the stones,
Mysterious symbols -
Perhaps madmen know
More than any of us.
Alone with own thoughts,
The nightmare is coming true.
The disease is losing limits
There’s no mercy for you.
My dear friend, we will help to understand
What's happening to you.
My dear friend, here you are safe,
You can smile and laugh.
My dear friend, we’ll cure the disease,
It's just your curved mirror.
My dear friend, stay,
Here's your family.
The gray walls are destroyed in some places,
The historic building is overgrown with ivy,
Strong wind shakes hands with the massive gates,
They creak and cry along with the night.
A ferocious display of blackened stoner-doom from Moscow's Moanhand, who offsets moments of bleak ugliness with clean, haunting melody. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 23, 2021
The metal’s band revelatory new record crosses genres and styles, effortlessly combining seemingly incompatible subgenres. Bandcamp Album of the Day Apr 26, 2024