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Ding Dong the Witch is dead
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A funeral dirge/eulogy for a dear departed friend
metal heavy goth dark industrial vampire horror
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Dark, Gothic, Industrial, Metal
Venturing out from the deep, dark shadows of the urban abomination of Chicago is Plasmata. When the sunset casts interminably long swatches of blackness, then succumbs to inevitable night, the undead gain temporary asylum in it's murky environs. Posing as performers, these denizens of dark music entertain unsuspecting audiences who mistakenly believe that they are there to watch. But the question is... who is being watched?
Song Info
Genre
Metal • Goth Metal
Charts
#12,209 today Peak #123
#467 in subgenre Peak #5
Author
Plasmata
Rights
2005
Uploaded
June 09, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.6 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
Those of us different from those of you have little in common. Differences aside, we all require sanctuary, sustinence, spiritual sacrament and social bonding. Yes, even the damned socialize. Rituals may vary. Some gather at cafes, go dancing or attend a picture show. We, the forsaken, are unfortunately more restricted. The cover of night moves us quicker than most can fathom to places most cannot imagine. Over centuries of time many oceans are crossed, many lands are seen and much has changed, yet a constant to us all is the need for the trust and protection of friendship. A true friend acts without questioning, cares without asking, comes when summoned and will offer their blood without a second thought. The most wretched of news echoes mournfully throughout the crumbling crypt that Plasmata calls home. The hollow is in a state of unrest as we don a mask of sorrow upon receiving word that we have lost a very dear friend. Her power knew no boundaries, nor did her capacity to captivate the hearts and minds of those lucky enough to see experience the soul inside the decrepit shell she was cursed to wear. Plasmata may be less recognized to the public in the newest millenium. However, we assure you that we have amassed quite a legacy over the centuries. For a large part of that time, our dear friend and confidant tirelessly sheltered us and protected us from many of the world’s injustices. We have recently been burning the midnight candles as we orchestrate new music for you, the creatures of night. However, we have decided to delay the release of these pieces in order to pay homage to our dearly departed. We have chosen a number from earlier in the 20th century that has transformed into a funeral dirge upon attempts to perform it whilst in the grips of sorrow and rage. It has, however, provided a measure of catharsis in its completion. In closing, a message into the beyond: the coven is crying, the ruby stilettos have been stolen. Beware of falling houses. Your soldiers still guard your walls, your monkeys still await their orders. Long will live our wicked bitch witch. We’ll see you again, our pretty. addendum: Plasmata welcomes your comments and opinions on this, our latest offering.
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