Review Summary: An opprobrious anathema.
Oh wretched one, Being will answer for their unenlightened effrontery. They must feel the agonizing paroxysms they have force fed others whence they face their imminent, cataclysmic condemnation. Only then will they realize the miscalculation of their callous wrongdoings and kneel in horror before your eminence. Blackened master, the effect of their obnoxious, outrageously repugnant band name “Being” sits heavy like a gigantous demon on my wretched soul. This is encroachment against your perfect agenda. Dreadful bands seem to unearth me oh heinous overlord, and that anecdote will be written on my tombstone by these unbelievers. I have foreseen it my master. But surely none may threaten your gruesome vengeance and stand before you. May your odious name be praised. May your hideous beard be grotesque forever and ever, amen. I beg thee to smite this band with flaming daggers. No good will come of them.
This band has fragments of puzzles purloined from others, for they have blotted out your ways oh ominous god of all gods. They seek to clone riffs from exceeding bands like TesseracT and Voyager, yet they are blasphemous echoes, an abomination before your thermogenic countenance. These apostates would seek to decimate your kingdom with half-hearted metalcore/post-hardcore and weak djent. This is undubatebly not a felicitous gift to pay homage to your merciful vengeance. Wretched dogs! In circumstances they were congeneric to Abandon All Ships, yet indistinguishably worse were the generic melodies aggrandized from Justin Bieber’s debut. I inexorably jest not lord, for I know your horrid ways. May you set my soul aflame if I were to deceive your grace. May I be trampled beneath your five thousand elephantine, vomitous feet. Praised be thee.
Yay, the songwriting wallows in infinite agony in comparison to your loving destestations. The production is hollow, zombified, with riffs more impuissant than unworthy souls I sacrifice in beatification for your ghastly glory. The singer seeks to deride his human form with horrid vocals. He would extirpate your kingdom if it were not for your abject odiousness. With godless auto-tune he distorts his vocals to mimic angels, yet his altitudinous notes are prevarication. It is naught but fallaciousness my lord. His voice is utilized as a cleaver against my soul, an omen marking the end times, but your voice is rife with tender assaugement, mollifying my unholy thoughts. I will bask in the glow of your sovereignty. May your chilling temperance be praised, for I will be at peace in terror on bended knees forevermore. So mote it be.
