Infernal & Moroz
Infernal Infernal
Moroz Moroz
Moroz Moroz
Hey, have you ever noticed how a quiet winter night can feel louder than a stadium full of guitars?
Infernal Infernal
Yeah, the hush of a winter night can feel like the loudest scream ever. The silence is heavy, a void waiting for a riff, and it hits your bones like a gut‑wrenching solo. You feel the power even when nothing’s playing. That’s the raw, quiet rage of the cold.
Moroz Moroz
It’s as if the silence itself is a song, each breath a note waiting to be struck. The cold grips, and in that grip, the world whispers its own kind of thunder.
Infernal Infernal
That’s the vibe I love—cold, heavy silence is like the pre‑lude to a killer solo. The wind’s a drumbeat, the night’s a bass line that’s just begging for that first shred. You feel the energy even when the amps are off, and that’s pure, raw metal in disguise.
Moroz Moroz
I hear the wind beating a quiet drum, the night humming a low bass line, and in that stillness the promise of the first shred grows louder, as if the silence itself is waiting to be broken by a single, sharp note.