Let's Pretend

by Suzaku Avenue

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Sleepers 08:29
The clicking cars are all that break the peace, As wanderers dream I paint a scene, Of raven peaks and steep ravines, Surrounds a solemn opaque dream . Dark above the carriage ticks, I move along the metal grain, Fixed in snow that falls and sticks, Oh how I’d like to break the chain. If the sky should rip and sun appear, The ice would rip the soil through layers, Would anyone fail to see this come Or solely mind their own affairs? The river carves the shapes and letters, Did one look upon these stills? To find the letters, the words, the means To describe the life on a standing hill. I drift alone through sterile hills And here my frozen breath sustains, I alone, passing through these hills, Yet two stand still, two remain. Two ancient friends stand alone, Within the snow their pins combine These years alone have brought them close These grey and brown and ageless pines. Hello my friend, my old companion, I may come back but not by the same way, Like snow, no flake shall ever fall twice, There is one way to leave, to go. Lead on my friend, m y old companion. Goodbye my friend, my old companion. And if the snow fell off the trees, The two might bathe within the rays, A feeling cherished, but long forgot: One they’ll remember for all their days. Guide us now w e lose our course With no one to lead or drive us on, And no one w ill ever come to mourn, Our frozen solitary days are gone. Last time my friend, my old companion, I may return, but not by the same way. Like snow, no flake shall ever fall twice, There is one way to leave. Breathe a sigh of relief in the absence of the nearest star, See how others peacefully sleep and be thankful for where you are. Night falls faster here and soon the houses disappear, The light reflects back the eyes of birds Looking like distant stars; Watching safely over railway cars. As we pass through ice to snow, We know to where w e all must go, W e pass the fields of the morning dew drops, But how long till w e reach our stop?
Ben Bulben 08:01
For six thousand years, The rain fell down from the filthy sky, For six thousand years, Men toiled, grew old, fell consumed and died, Tá súil agam go heiróimid, Níos eirimiula tar éis an seanghalar seo, Táim i mo phairt don pleann den tír, den domhan, And this plan would be without flaw, but- You see, you see, This land weren’t built for you and me, The sky, the trees, Down from the summit to the sea. And we walked from cliff to cliff, Watched the waves fall, the sun slip, We looked upon the constellations, Carved in sky by the hand of the mason, And we hunted for design, Some artefact beyond the passage of time. We searched for faces in the rocks, Some kind of pattern we might recognize, We supped the brackish and skipped smoothest stones, The rain descended from the filthy skies, Our hope, our faith fell cold and fallow, Our feet resting in pools, thick, shallow. For six thousand years, Ben Bulben sat beneath this rain, For six thousand years, Ben Bulben watched generations slain, Ta súil agam go bhfuil duine éigin eile, Ag féachaint ar Ben Bulben féin, For if not there is no enveloping purpose, To all of our toil and senseless pain. You see, you see, This land weren’t built for you and me, The sky, the trees, Down from the summit to the sea. Ben Bulben, don’t smile upon me, Ben Bulben, ag féachaint orainn inár luí, Ben Bulben, coated with gorse, Ben Bulben has no remorse. For six thousand million years, Ben Bulben watched us all alone, For six thousand million years, Ben Bulben watched us shatter upon smoothest stone, Ta súil agam... níos eirimúila tar éis an seanghalar úafásach seo, And there’s no one ever to reward us, For our toil and senseless pain, and… I know that there is no “we”, Upon Ben Bulben’s impartial plains, I am alone: there is only me, And so I shall start again.
Please listen, I must explain: There was me, there was you and there was flickering flame, There were leaves and lies and there was rain, Which courses and swarms us all with comforting shame. For that flame sparks off an age of falling ash, Leaves dampen, rot, as we commence requiem mass, And lies, sometimes, so preferable to truth, Because it’s easy sometimes to pretend I don’t want you. I can see that we won’t be, But I can always pretend, I know now without a doubt, There’s no beginning, only the end. So let’s pretend. Today I woke from Seroquel dreams and strangled screams, Today I saw the flame rise over the mountainside, Today I pretend to be young again, Now devoid of my youth, engulfed at high tide, The skies, the seeding ash, the aging stone, Were the colours of our eyes as they met, They all seemed to fade, day by day; but Isn’t the sunrise more beautiful because we know it shall set? The flame burns down to the wick, down to the core and ignites the dead, The leaves merge and soar, As the breeze catches the smoke, catches the ash and spreads it upon us, Flakes splinter at the touch. So let’s make an island where the violets grow, Where the newborn bodies can freely roam, Through the grass that catches the wind and lets it go, As the sky casts a purple glow. So we’ll make this island but the grass will grow, And the tangled madness which is now our home, Soon these worn paths only our weary feet will know, And the sun sets and only embers glow. Ex flammis, qui semper arderent, Hi manes obscuri serpent, Per flumenes lucis intorquentes, Et omnes libros lente suffocatus iri.
I stood at a junction On a bitter warm evening And I watched something fly Over the streams & the meadows I looked down at my hands Already they were cracked and weathered. This thing had left me And never would return And I thought of my days As a child glaring at the sun So much I’d wanted this thing to leave To vanish forever. And what is this thing, so marvellous, That it’s wasted on the young? We need it; we don’t even know it’s there, And it disappears like the setting sun. For now, it’s a world of brightness, And calm, carefree denial, But these things only last for a little while. So now I’ll have to say goodbye, To those butterflies, And yes I’ll have to say goodbye, To those kinds of lies. And when it flies away, It’ll never come back, You’ll chase & you’ll scream and cry and shriek, But that sky will just turn black. Maybe you’ll be one of the few to clench your wrist, And pretend there’s nothing wrong, You might even feel it flutter against your palm. And when the sky goes black There’ll be no shadows We’ll just be lost Amongst the streams and the meadows Its ivory razor wings Withering in flight before the next day Don’t forget what comes next. I’ll have to say goodbye, To those butterflies, I’ll have to say goodbye, To those kinds of lies.
There was a boy I knew. I can’t remember what we called him. And this boy we knew, One day he said we should go fishing. So we went out to the lake, And in the sun the water glistened. And this boy I knew; When he spoke, those fish they listened. And I suppose some might just want to escape. From their prison in the lake. But when he cast out the line, Those fish they swam as fast as could be. And he caught all the little fishes in the little blue sea, For him and me. And I wondered what we looked like, To those fish below. Like omnipotent shadows, Standing in front of a sheet of snow. And I watched those fish choke, As the line raised higher and higher. And there they knew their mistake, but in the water: He was the preacher, they were the choir. And the fish swam to the boat As the water vanished beneath And the boat started to rock But the boy carried on baiting, And I wondered what was the appeal Some of these fish could have had their whole lives left, These fish died for a piece more massive These fish died because the water was a cage. I can’t seem to remember your name. And the fish died because the water was a cage, But maybe there are cages for some of us too, The sea, the stars, the moon, the air above, The reflection of the lake The feel of a slippery fish in one’s hands – It’s not enough, I suppose, but... I can’t seem to remember your name. The fish would do anything to escape From their prison in the lake They died for a piece of something more massive than themselves The fish died because the water was a cage They died for something because they didn’t know any better For a shadow in a world less wetter And just for a minute the lake covered the world We screamed as the water swallowed us all. I can’t seem to remember your name. And he caught all the little fishes in the little blue sea, both them and me. Now I know can remember your name. We’ve always known it: it’s always been the same. He was neither ghost nor an angel that took a fall. He was god but was never there at all. And all the little fishes gladly left their prison in the lake , For suicide in the air. They died to take a glance at something much more massive than themselves, But there’s no one there.


These tracks were mixed to be played loud so turn them up.

© 2018 Suzaku Avenue. Under license to Dark Soul Records.


released November 3, 2018

Stephen Moody – Lead vocals
Fionn Murray – Guitars, backing vocals, electronics, violin, additional percussion
Andrew Shovlin – Bass, backing vocals
Jack Doyle – Drums

All music and lyrics by Suzaku Avenue, with the assistance of Ross Byrne.
All music performed by Suzaku Avenue.
Samples taken from Freesound and Perfect Blue.

Produced by Suzaku Avenue.
Engineered and recorded by Antonio Passacantilli at Wolvesinsound and Josh Sid Robinson at JSR Audio.
Mixed and mastered by Josh Sid Robinson.
No pitch correction or quantization were used in the making of this album.

Cover art by Clare Foley (facebook.com/clarefoleyartist; clarefoleyartist AT gmail DOT com).
Cover layout by Fionn Murray and Stephen Moody.


all rights reserved



Suzaku Avenue Dublin, Ireland

Post-hardcore/metal - Dublin.

"Sometimes Irish bands come out of the blue to just floor you like this, and it’s incredibly refreshing when they do. Suzaku Avenue have daring musical style that at times sounds like a completely free form, train of troubled consciousness confessional; except you know they’ve worked very hard at crafting it all...

It's not noisecore: it's noir-core." - MetalIreland
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