We've updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Continuous Winter

by Burning Ghats

supported by
Sekator thumbnail
Sekator Killer stuff. Imagined the technical aspects of Dillinger Escape Plan, but mixed in with a more brutal, grind-fueled attitude.

Exceptionally clean tech guitar playing, no low tuned mush here.

A very impressive achievement. Favorite track: Less Sunlight.
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price


Less Sunlight Too many secrets have been whispered in here. Man-made slaves are at it again. Getting by on getting weaker.Soon we will all be a void. Down in the dumps ,we couldn’t be more alone if we tried. These constant disappointments are triggering to survivors.Less sunlight, it feels like less sunlight. Live like hell and beware of nirvana. No roses for bodies that weren’t buried deep enough. There’s no money in the cure if there’s no sickness in the herd.Down in the dumps we couldn’t be more alone if we tried.
Suburban Daydreams Dear empty hearts (suburban daydreams), I hope the calm is almost gone.I hope it’s worn out to the point where we could walk across the buried chains and slow suicides.With rabid verse from heads in palms spilling praise, “busy planning minds are busy planting graves”. Excommunicated from the soul in a rat maze. Brilliant urns leave empty hearts.Suburban daydreams stay numb above all things. I hope the calm is almost gone. I hope the sedation that tries to occupy us turns around and spits out the blood that’s been running down our face. From worse to worse in time and dust. I won’t pretend we live in solace. I can’t.
Absence Lives Here Absence lives here. It does what it wants to. It’s hard on the inmates.To be your own worst enemy. You can name it hell and it will stare a hole in the back of your head. It won’t work to stand up. It won’t work to sit down. Just existing to breathe, a cold comfort disease. Underground medicine taker, your self absorbed but you call it the devil. In the human rust and isolation the blue healer is bored again. And when I look into your eyes I see those wasted sleepless nights. They remind me of myself. And a place where I chose not to go.
Gastown Piss 01:40
Gastown Piss So, we’re what you call bodies. Pendants just hanging restless. My skeleton struggles worse than I do. The vapor, the skin… And for the sore down losers.That spend their shattered spirits in the line. With those scours that were made for me. I am feeling dizzy looking at this eyesore. Eyesore vertigo. Cling to miserable lives. Pretend there is no other choice. Sharpen your imperfections and crumble in your effl orescence. There’s pills to make the advent end. Clearly there’s no easy way out. Walls down body language. Endless knots rip the heart, sow the wounds. As a leper. As a father of climbing walls under water.
First Hand Lows I will move away from here. The world that wants to make me addicted. I used to want to be someone, sorted out/cleansed from myself. First hand low’s, second hand smoke. Harmful and waiting until I choke. You can never make a better human until your left with none. Now I can only let confusion be me and learn to send love back to myself. Now I’d do anything not to be addicted. Now I am an ace of my condition. Everything unsung is what is beautiful. Where once my arms could never hold on tight. I feel nooses loosen and the ability to scream my mind clear. Unbury myself from insecurities and all the wrong answers for all the vain reasons. Watch me fail and live again to fail again. I used to be my biggest problem.
Continuous Winter I’ve seen future lives lose an early start to the hidden hands of the sickness in their heart. And instead of love the world won’t try to see this. In the blacked out rooms where the real pain grows, the shooting gallery yearns in droves. While the torn families can’t understand everything. And instead of love the world won’t try to see them. For the few that try to push past it’s malevolent glow, there’s a hundred mile waiting list and disappointment in tow. And instead of love the world won’t try to see this. Instead of love, we have too many ways to hide from wasted lives, because it hurts to see them. It hurts to see them go. What if everyone could finally see them . Wouldn’t it be less appalling? Anyone who’s heart beats for somewhat long needs to help to be helped to be here. I am trying my hardest to be here.


released July 25, 2014

All Songs Written By Burning Ghats 2013 - 2014

Kevin - guitar
Chad - vocals
Cam - bass
Ryan - drums

Piano and Organ on "Continuous Winter"
by Jesse Gander

Recorded and Mixed by Jesse Gander at The Hive Creative Labs - R.I.P., and Rain City Recorders
Mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege


Cover Photo by Chelse Kirchmayer
Insert Photo by Kevin Grindon


all rights reserved



Burning Ghats Vancouver, British Columbia

contact / help

Contact Burning Ghats

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this album or account

If you like Burning Ghats, you may also like: