Epitaph of Epiphanies Escarpment

It sounds like when shit starts to lock in and you catch the wave and everting goes clockwork precise - the textures are rustic dirty but triumphant and steadfast despite the betrayals the tyranny and the traps springin on you - it’s finding the secrete blessing in the bleak winter - Conversely it is the sound of the sun beating down upon your brow along a dusty trail in the desolation of wilderness