#inruins

In Ruins - We Are All to Perish

Funeral Doom/Death Metal from Timișoara, Romania

The band’s first full-length album, 'We Are All To Perish', features Urmuz (vocals, guitars, bass) and St. Oliver (drums) and represents a clear move toward funeral doom metal. Spanning more than forty minutes, the album guides the listener through a dense landscape of emotions and contemplations focused on mortality and the inevitability of death. To reinforce this atmosphere visually, the CD cover artwork depicts Serghei Esenin after his suicide, referencing the poet’s final act of writing a poem in his own blood.

1. I’m Tired of Living in My Land 10:41 2. I Do Not Regret and I Do Not Shed Tears 10:09 3. We’ll Depart This World for Ever, Surely 11:07 4. Farewell 11:04

Release date: March 13th, 2026 via @meusemusicrecords

As a woman of color, I've had to deal with plenty of bile and hatred thrown at me in my life. And while I cannot equate my pain to Black pain, I stand with my brothers and sisters against the tyranny of systematic racism.

Today on Bandcamp day—and every day, forever—all individual purchases of our new song "IN RUINS" off our upcoming LP 'RESURRECTEDINBLACK' will be donated to over 70 community bail funds, activist organizations and racial justice organizers via ActBlue.

Go a step further and support Black artists directly, especially today—here's a list of over 1000: tinyurl.com/Bandcampsupport

Stay strong. Keep fighting. ✊🏽

two thousand, four hundred and eighty-four songs on her phone, and she’s been putting the same one on repeat for the past half hour. might be ‘cause she’s a little drunk, a little stoned, and a little too tired to care — might be that she just really needs a moment to listen to some good music, to not worry about anything at all (especially not the bad things inside, the empty parts, the carved holes, that aching void she tries so desperately to fill). tunny helps — tunny always helps these moods. maybe ‘cause he’s fucked up too, and both their fuck ups go hand in hand, like old friends. maybe it’s just ‘cause he’s the most honest person she’s ever known, and a ‘fuck you’ from him feels better than any other kind word from fake people who really don’t give a shit. morgan lazily outstretches an arm towards him though not really bridging the gap between them, too busy holding her corner of the floor to herself, her phone safely tucked inside her jeans’ pocket just so he won’t change the music - she still needs fuel, though. “ — yo, morrissey, pass me a beer. ”

what now or is it more of the same disgusting bullshit