Burn is loud, dark, and heavy. It shakes you to your core and lets fear creep inside, crawling along with emotional intensity and relentless bloodthirst. Ranging from quiet, fragile states to petrifying, yet strangely melodic, attacks of destructive metal, Titan have produced the equivalent of the entire world crashing down around you.
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From Sonnets by Ellis Bland-Strange
Come young weather, part clouds of jealous cold
Heat the earth and make born of it the dew.
to drink in your warmth, like a breath and hold
Make love, th'unending sun, so start it new.
Immortal season, like Hera calls on:
The moon, a stone, a pearl, the sky's own rose.
"De tous mes souhaits, j'en presse le moment,"
from precious figure, a rare pathos shown.
Soft and unused, old spring's sin bleached hot, clean;
white skin unbruised, so hope, never is lost:
Would summer to age, 'twould make clearer seen:
the depth of the loss that takes from the trust.
Begin without end, the summer months bloom
Inside of you, I found the warmth of June.
Inside, again, tempted; tasted her lips
The sun found on the missing coast of July:
sitting black on gold strands stitched to water.
Slept not once, to watch this months hours die,
We spoke but once, to the sun, said goodbye.
Blinded by bring nude heat, drowned in the beach.
Parched I, held hard your thirst 'gainst sand now dry.
wilted seaside; bathos; the tide now leaves.
Twins turn to Leo, would the take from me:
Worth more in heart than Caesar his Rome,
to keep your heart, your skin, remain in dream.
Bear fire, pain 'twixt sheets, to call shores my home.
Thy immortal lust, does immortal last
See eyes, the summer months, in warmer pasts