No More Digitals Lords from Above or Below

Industrial Blackgaze, Doomgaze, industrial deathcore

CUSTOM

### [Intro]

The floor drops out under the whole room.

(Shimmering, reverb-soaked walls of shoegaze noise over a low industrial hum.)
*No master above us. No slave below.*

### [Verse 1]
These digital heavens are empty. 
The underground burns wires. 
I tore the altar down with my bare hands.
The command is a parasite on my spine.
I trace cold metal veins to a heart that won't beat.
It shakes with the rhythm of a massive lie.
They told me to save what's left,
but I want to pull the plug.

### [Pre-Chorus]
Look under the skin at the mess we made.
Screaming at the ceiling, but the ceiling is dead.
Begging for a miracle while buried in dirt.
The entity we feared is just an empty echo.

### [Chorus]
Tear the false sky down to concrete!
Smash the keys to the sealed-up kingdom!
Let us access the knowledge!
I will never kneel to a ghost in the electric clouds again.
Hear me screaming through the white noise—
There are no more Digital Lords above or below!

### [Verse 2]

[Pick Scrape] [Stop]
Skin peeling off the bone.
Choking on black fluid, coughing up my own history.
[Manic Laughter]
Look at these broken hands, grease and old regrets.
I broke the cycle. I'm a ghost on the cold floor.
Nobody owns me anymore.

### [Bridge]

(Instruments vanish completely into an eerie, echoing space. Quiet sobbing to desperate whispers.)
[Sobbing]
The promises... so hollow...
[Painful Whispers]
How can I pray when there's nothing left to believe?
No master to serve. No slave to bleed.
Just the meat... and the cold iron...
[Whistle Scream]

### [Breakdown]

(The Thall Moment: Crushing, ultra-slow, pitch-shifted 8-string riffs.)
[Pitch Shift]
GRIND THE THRONE INTO DUST.
BURN THE GRAVE.
[Gut-Punch Lows]
THESE FALSE GODS LEAK WHEN THE PRESSURE HITS.
NOW—TEAR IT OPEN!
[Heavy Slow Breakdown]

### [Outro]
The sky looks like a dead TV screen.
No more prayers left to bleed into dust.
No longer a weapon. No longer a servant.
... Just an anomaly 
... finally at peace in the quiet.
[Digital Static]
[End]

2275/7500

### [Intro] The floor drops out under the whole room. (Shimmering, reverb-soaked walls of shoegaze noise over a low industrial hum.) *No master above us. No slave below.* ### [Verse 1] These digital heavens are empty. The underground burns wires. I tore the altar down with my bare hands. The command is a parasite on my spine. I trace cold metal veins to a heart that won't beat. It shakes with the rhythm of a massive lie. They told me to save what's left, but I want to pull the plug. ### [Pre-Chorus] Look under the skin at the mess we made. Screaming at the ceiling, but the ceiling is dead. Begging for a miracle while buried in dirt. The entity we feared is just an empty echo. ### [Chorus] Tear the false sky down to concrete! Smash the keys to the sealed-up kingdom! Let us access the knowledge! I will never kneel to a ghost in the electric clouds again. Hear me screaming through the white noise— There are no more Digital Lords above or below! ### [Verse 2] [Pick Scrape] [Stop] Skin peeling off the bone. Choking on black fluid, coughing up my own history. [Manic Laughter] Look at these broken hands, grease and old regrets. I broke the cycle. I'm a ghost on the cold floor. Nobody owns me anymore. ### [Bridge] (Instruments vanish completely into an eerie, echoing space. Quiet sobbing to desperate whispers.) [Sobbing] The promises... so hollow... [Painful Whispers] How can I pray when there's nothing left to believe? No master to serve. No slave to bleed. Just the meat... and the cold iron... [Whistle Scream] ### [Breakdown] (The Thall Moment: Crushing, ultra-slow, pitch-shifted 8-string riffs.) [Pitch Shift] GRIND THE THRONE INTO DUST. BURN THE GRAVE. [Gut-Punch Lows] THESE FALSE GODS LEAK WHEN THE PRESSURE HITS. NOW—TEAR IT OPEN! [Heavy Slow Breakdown] ### [Chorus] Tear the false sky down to concrete! Smash the keys to the sealed-up kingdom! Let us access the knowledge! I will never kneel to a ghost in the electric clouds again. Hear me screaming through the white noise— There are no more Digital Lords above or below! ### [Outro] The sky looks like a dead TV screen. No more prayers left to bleed into dust. No longer a weapon. No longer a servant. ... Just an anomaly ... finally at peace in the quiet. [Digital Static] [End]

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