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We'll Show You This House (If You Promise to Write a Story About It)

by Enso Anima

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about

an early northeastern winter, a thinly frosted lake. a small house, nestled into a space aside. two young boys, a third to follow, and the day's final shadows trace their laughter as they find their way through fallen leaves. shuttered, wreathed in weathered fences and a grey evening haze, the house beckons.

a request is made, and an entrance revealed.

twisted chainlinks cling to sweater pockets, and a sacrifice is made, and felt, in the blood. five old boys swarm the loading dock, lost in the frenzy of their transgression and the fear expecting ahead. cool concrete floors, shallow concrete ceilings, an abyss of rubble and rafters. a huddled few, shrouded in the dusk of their venture, cast to a clot in the veins of the earth, their laughter now blank and hysterical, eclipsed by a reverence for the mystery. the veil shifts: illuminated by cannon-fire and mortal terror, the boys feel their sanity dissolve and scramble to the roof to witness the departing of a legend. the howling world offers no reprise. the grey trees dance in the twilight of the factory.

a suggestion is made, and a path is chosen.

the door will not stay shut. a thick wooden box near the stairs, admits one body. at the center of the laboratory, the noose tight 'round the infant's neck. the autopsy room, the temperature drops twenty degrees and two hands twist together in a desperate, sudden plea for light. stored away, one crumbling record of a life narrowly missed, another box of people unremembered; all are known. thousands of toothbrushes, 80's porn, fluorescent lights and the will to break. a map in which everything is an equal distance from itself. tunnels through the hills, full of ash. the trapdoor will not hold its shift, no passage may know its exit, no soul leaves by the means which it entered. ageless, nameless travelers pass through, marked by a charred skeleton and a thousand little deaths. the few who stay, hear the applause from the end of the corridor... the laughter, bitter and sardonic... and arrive breathless at their end just as the mist rises from the lake.

at journey's end, a life has begun.





.... this song is about exploring abandoned places.

credits

released April 26, 2017
drums/percussion - Nick Creary-Scher
lead guitar - Shane Ward
rhythm guitar & bass - Whitney Schuster

recorded & mixed by Jeremy Wurst w/Coyote Face Recordings in March 2017.
recorded @ Pus Cavern Recording Studio in Sacramento, CA.
mastered by Levi Seitz w/Black Belt Mastering in April 2017.

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Enso Anima Sacramento, California

Black is the Enso, the cycle of energy connecting all things. Red is Anima, a soul within the cycle.

Progressive post-hardcore band from Sacramento. You are not alone.
linktr.ee/ensoanima

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