Drowned Sorrow

Drowned Sorrow

 Centereach, New York, USA
BandMetal

Drowned Sorrow is inspired, high energy heavy metal. Vehement aggression channeled into dense, powerful rhythms, evocative melodic textures and dynamic vocal intensity.

Biography

Formed in May 2000, Drowned Sorrow is a testament to perseverance and dedication by contemporary underground musicians. They have developed and continue to refine their brand of inspired, high energy heavy metal. Drowned Sorrow has established themselves through self-released recordings—2004 demo Superimpose A Smile, Demo 2006, 2010 EP Fittings At The Coffin Shop—and liberating live performances that include appearances with Arsis, Through The Eyes Of The Dead, God Forbid and Rosetta. On their latest record, they channel aggression into dense, powerful rhythms, evocative melodic textures and dynamic vocal intensity that engage the listener and wind them through epic, cathartic release. Watch for this band!

Lyrics

The Host

Written By: Drowned Sorrow

All of a sudden help is on the way. Attention continues to convene, meeting an embodiment of fear. “Spectators! The body is not moving.” Commence precautionary measures until they get here. A look at your watch. Begin to provoke him with speech, soliciting questions for answers. Anticipate an incoherent response, maybe a subtle mannerism just to know. Stare at your watch a little longer, as the softest rock grates against my skin.

I’ve been invited to dine with others, a compelling manifestation. They raise a glass to toast my arrival. I will not be able to visit anymore (fragile nature of our being). What do we have to plan for? What do we have to plan for? An overactive imagination and the irony of death—life’s most interesting principle. A redundancy that accounts for everyone. That we cannot transcend or displace. Reducing life to choices with no options. Unaware of what is not tangible, I’m going to find out. Going to find out. Approach the designated seat at the table and reach for my glass. It has already been filled. I’m going to find out. Going to find out.

Flashing lights converge on the city street. Parties mutually interested agree to part the way. Let the professionals handle this. “Does anyone know what happened? Does anyone know what happened?” I guess a first impression means a lot. His vital signs have slipped below normal. He will not heed to acknowledgement. “We have to get him out of here!” He will not heed to acknowledgement. “We have to get him out of here!” It’s not long before we proclaim him.

Voices whispering around me increase in intensity. They almost shatter the glass I hold. If I only could identify their source. I need the subtitles slower, I cannot read them. How do I ask to gain clarity? This will be the first time if I ever address you, surpass your attempt at a chalk tracing. I’m not getting better. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not. And it’s not getting better. It’s not. It’s not. Mistress-antidote cycle calling. It’s not getting better. It’s not. It’s not. It’s not. And I’m not getting better. I’m not. I’m not.

The Amputee Mime

Written By: Drowned Sorrow

And these riches lay as waste in front of us. It is a setup. It’s all a setup. Propped up against the system, want us to believe. You are the company. You own the club. You tell the tales to build the fantasies, knowing you’ll sever the hands of those trying to make more of life. Collecting. Collecting what’s due. Cut off the right side. Cut off the left side. Stand! Smile.

Smile your broad faced smile, we’ve got you figured out. Mislead for wealth commander. You found the cure for freedom and it’s a slaughter. Take these limbs our best defense. It’s like looting cadavers, looting cadavers. Guiltless abundance most wonderful, wonderful. There won’t be a revolution. As a pulse comes to rest another is confirmed dead. Being damned is not an honor, but you wait with confetti.

The verdict’s out! We are the interim solution. The replacements for the replacements. Continue to mine. Continue to mine. There’s more in the backyard. Right in the backyard. We’re the means of control. Infuse with those broad strokes of temptation against a fix to starve. Take it. Take it. Take it. Take it. Take it. Take it. Take it. Take these limbs our best defense. It’s like looting cadavers, looting cadavers. Guiltless abundance most wonderful, wonderful. There won’t be a revolution.

False alarm. We recognize the gesture. We won’t prosper after all. Conditioned by thieves we do not own a presence. Just subjects to fraud, of genuine fraud, cutting each layer away. If it’s all worth taking, there’s nothing much left. We’ll wait for the birds to carry us away. If it’s all worth taking, there’s nothing much left. We’ll wait for the birds to carry us away. If it’s all worth taking, there’s nothing much left. We’ll wait for the birds to carry us away. If it’s all worth taking, there’s nothing much left. We’ll wait for the birds to carry us away.

Receiving Presents At A Funeral

Written By: Drowned Sorrow

I against I, against I, or so it seems when competing with failure. Cradle misfortune, this pastime does not make me well. On the lips of aversion, a noncommittal indulgence. It insinuates that I’m trying to contend the mold, how I’ve learned, what’s been fastened to me. Laced with melancholy, you built me to live like this. Architect to preside over family was only a formality. Innocence. Innocence begs for guidance, but is slapped for reaching from the corner, where it is rehearsed again and again.

An imprint of your ideals preaches emptiness as harmony. Turn away your conscience, fooled, this audience remembers everything. Take our places, form a circle to accept depravity. Forgive me father, I am not dumb at all. I am not dumb at all. Let you blame this on me. A decree to preserve pride and resume bottled allegiance. Merciless the logic of breed. Enslaved to a culture all its, all its own. Who doesn’t matter? Divulge the inner workings of faith, of faith. Describe, describe faith. There are no prayers that save, your tomorrow keeps them from me. Days coalesce to one. Thoughts are provoked, should not be unheard.

Hate, an inclination that if it were a word as strong as it is a feeling I’d be committed to its indefinite repetition. Forging fingertips into my eyes, bewildering weakness. Eclipse villainy of insurmountable dreams (Da da da da da da da da da). Spatial frame inviting. Bare breath fulfillment. Please freeze this portrayal.

You should have known better than me. You should have known better than me. Your disposition, it could not conceal posturing sickness. How it nurtured neglect. We both awoke dependent, discern the difference. This can never ever be returned. Stolen perception. Segregate illusion from a desolate embrace. Perpetual concession. Forlorn, it strains as you dilute consequences of your being, depleting my efforts to stand.

Loss can cure some, favor a ploy for letting go. No one has erased the past. Stagnant resent, it won’t reset. Stagnant resent, it won’t let go. (Eeee) I’d take your last breath if I could. Hear all of those processions sing, “Who doesn’t want to be loved? Loved! Loved!”

Deception Waves Hello

Written By: Drowned Sorrow

It’s not worth explaining. It’s not worth explaining. The proof is right here. The proof is right here. It’s right here strangling your attempt at redemption. Is that even the case when motivation’s kept untold? The person in this picture associates that very moment with the expectation I would soon know. As to flaunt the appeal.

You planned it. You planned it. You planned it. You planned it for the pleasure of betrayal. Knowing how much I care. You planned it. You planned it after having shown the same. This is the part you wait for.

Despondent, I lament the delightful appearance of a killer. Of a killer, resonates through me striking compassion from leader of despair. Suffer in place. Clench these prolonged thoughts. Your greatest asset is my greatest loss.

When is it enough? Hooks keep my lids open. Unwilling. Unwilling. Untold. Untold. Untold. Now, now, now. Now now now. Now, now. Rescue sleep from these prosthetic eyes. Desperate acts to maneuver around your image.

Why now? No no no, no, no. No I’m not. No, no. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine. No I’m not fine.

We've Contracted Death, Visit Often

Written By: Drowned Sorrow

We have been building our armor for years. It’s always worn and still, and still does not protect us. Soaking in the blood of wounds that are not allowed to heal. Tired scenarios are only a holding medium. Shifting boundaries carve a well in open minds. The selfless conscience is rewarded by what’s taken. We collect the pieces to survive the beatings. And pretend we can go on, despite wearing away internally. Try and hide disfigurement. Repeating excuses is a rather convincing acceptance. Hardly a role to begin anew. Fully aware and incapable of stopping it. The beatings. They can go on. They go on.

Lost that sense of meaningful. Why don’t we turn away? Such simple emotion. Such a simple emotion can manifest itself so powerfully and methodically destroy us. Just breathing. Left breathing. Keep breathing. Why stop there? Useless feelings end useless lives. Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing. This infusion of pressure connects all of the points within us.

Rapidly spread introversion. They lead recovery away. Sequester desire as a fault of continuity. Live on and on. Live on and on. Live on and on. These wounds collect remnants of past birthdays. Labored amusement doesn’t last long. Those whom we’ve held closest have emptied our hearts and hands. Erasing the brightest expectations. Giving us the chance just to wait for the end. Knowing, not watching. Hardened, but beating. Movements in succession are difficult. Alive, coherent and aware of what surrounds us. Languish in misappropriated ideals. Excessive, these injections are real. Excessive, these injections are real.

Discography

Fittings At The Coffin Shop EP (2010)
Demo 2006
Superimpose A Smile (2004 demo)

Set List

Drowned Sorrow set lists are adapted to the style of show and allotted time to perform.