This time, the lyrics on Colours of Pain became even more personal to me, and it was a conscious decision to go there. Some of these themes have been building up for months and years, shaped by my own life, but also by what I see happening around us. The feeling that everything is accelerating while something in society is hardening at the same time. The sense that the boundaries of what is considered acceptable keep shifting. That people are once again too easily turned into enemies. That truth is treated like something flexible, something you can bend until it fits whatever you need it to be.
In my Inside BLOODRED post “Let’s talk politics”, that was the core point: I do not pretend that art exists in a vacuum, and I do not believe silence is a neutral position. I am not interested in turning BLOODRED into a vehicle for party politics or slogans, but I do care about stance. Humanist values, dignity, responsibility, and what happens when fear becomes a method and dehumanization becomes a language. Colours of Pain connects to that, but in a way that feels closer to the bone. These songs are less commentary and more mirror. Not a moral lecture, but an attempt to put words to what often remains unspoken, even when it is uncomfortable.
Let’s dive deeper into each song.
Ashes
At the center of “Ashes” is the inevitable collapse of power built on deception. The moment the illusion breaks, the mask falls, and what looked untouchable suddenly turns into ruins. It is not aimed at one single figure. It is a universal mechanism you can recognize across history, and just as easily in the present.
What gives the song its bite is that it is not pure triumph. There is a sense of vindication, yes, but also melancholy. The lyrics focus on what remains after the downfall: crumbled trust, broken structures, people reduced to “pawns” who were used and discarded. The damage does not disappear just because the deceiver falls.
We chose imagery that feels almost timeless: an empty kingdom, a crumbling throne. The chorus pushes it into a stark conclusion. “Emperor of nothing”, “kingdom of ashes”. No redemption arc, no way back. Just the moment of realization when everything collapses under its own weight.
Colours of Pain
The title track is a deeply personal exploration of inner turmoil. It captures the overwhelming emotional chaos that comes with crisis: rage, despair, numbness, the struggle to find meaning when everything feels fractured.
The “colors” are a way of naming different states of suffering. Red as raw anger. Black as deep sorrow and emptiness. Gray as that suffocating numbness when everything becomes too much. Pain is not one emotion, and the song moves through those shifts without trying to tidy them up.
There is a deliberate tension between violent outbursts and the crushing weight of depression. One moment it burns, the next it turns into an all-consuming void. The line “Embrace darkness (I will destroy)” sits right in that dangerous zone where pain takes over and starts steering the wheel. The song does not offer an easy resolution, because in those moments there often is none. It simply gives voice to what is hard to say out loud, and sometimes that is the first step toward confronting it.
We have captured all of this in this video and found powerful images:
Mindvirus
“Mindvirus” deals with ideological oppression and the suppression of free thought. It draws a line between historical inquisitions and modern forms of control, where fear and power are used to discourage questioning and reward obedience. When ignorance is fueled by dogma, it does not just limit people. It damages societies.
The imagery of burning books and imprisoned thoughts is not subtle, and it is not meant to be. Those in power have always feared knowledge and independent minds. The song calls out censorship in all its forms, whether it comes from institutions, regimes, or movements that pretend morality while policing thought.
The chorus is a direct rallying point: a refusal to accept tyranny over the mind. “Mindvirus” frames oppressive ideology like a disease that spreads when people stop questioning and let fear replace reason. There is frustration in these lyrics, but even more urgency. The battles may change their names, but they do not go away.
Heretics
“Heretics” is about willful ignorance, especially in the face of environmental destruction. Not just inaction, but the active choice to look away because reality is inconvenient. The title flips the idea of heresy on its head. In the song, we are not rejecting dogma. We are rejecting reality itself.
The imagery is drawn from what is already happening: glaciers crying, forests burning, disasters unfolding in plain sight. And still, humanity keeps moving as if nothing is wrong. That contradiction is the core tension of the lyrics.
Time is a recurring pressure point here. The hourglass draining, the sense of the window closing while we pretend it is still wide open. The emotional tone is frustration mixed with inevitability. The chorus does not offer escape, only consequence. If we continue to deny what is obvious, collapse stops being a possibility and becomes the logical outcome.
A New Dark Age
This song reflects a sense of societal decline, and the unsettling thought that technological progress can coexist with moral regression. The phrase “a new dark age” is not about nostalgia for history. It is about the idea that we can move forward in innovation while moving backward in values.
Lines like “Technology reigns, our hearts are cold” point to emotional detachment and a loss of genuine connection. We are connected constantly, yet often more isolated. The song frames that as part of a broader decay, where greed, apathy, and ignorance start to feel normalized.
Even though the picture is bleak, the purpose is not despair for its own sake. It is a wake-up call. Recognizing the drift is the first step to resisting it, and to reconnecting with empathy, integrity, and actual engagement.
Death Machine
“Death Machine” personifies a virus as a relentless predator. An unseen force that infiltrates bodies and leaves destruction behind, indifferent to who you are. There is no negotiation with it, no reasoning, no mercy. It spreads because that is what it does.
The repeated phrases, “Hunting, killing, relentless, death machine”, mirror that unstoppable momentum. The song was inspired by the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, but it is also about what came with it: fear, helplessness, the emotional toll, and the way whole societies felt shaken.
Images like “leaving mayhem in my wake” point to how unpredictably it shattered lives and families. And the “everrolling tide of pain” captures that drawn-out experience, the waves that kept coming. Writing it from the virus’s perspective was a deliberate choice to make it unsettling, because disease has no conscience. It is impersonal cruelty in motion.
Winds of Oblivion
“Winds of Oblivion” is one of the most personal songs I have written. It came from the loss of a former classmate who passed away too soon. That kind of grief leaves a different void, one filled with unrealized futures and things you never got to say.
The “winds of oblivion” symbolize time itself, the force that both carries memories and slowly erodes them. Oblivion here is not only forgetting. It is the bitter truth that even the strongest images of a person can blur over time, no matter how much you hold on.
The verses reflect the intimacy of memory and the slow realization that someone is truly gone. The chorus hits like a storm, raw and repetitive, almost like a plea, but also like acceptance. The line “Erasing all tomorrows” is central to what death steals: not only a life, but every path that life could have taken. Writing the song was catharsis. Not a solution, but a way to give grief a shape, and to keep the memory alive in the only language that felt honest.
Resist
“Resist” was inspired by the oppression of women and girls worldwide, especially where religious and patriarchal systems strip away rights and autonomy. What moved me most is the courage of those who stand up anyway, knowing the price can be terrifyingly high.
The song is a battle cry, and it does not try to be polite. The line “wage war against their god” is not an attack on faith itself. It is aimed at those who use religion as a weapon and a justification for control. “Women rise, defiance in their gaze” is about that visible strength, the refusal to be silenced.
The message reaches beyond specific countries because patriarchal oppression exists in many forms, sometimes brutal and obvious, sometimes quieter and just as destructive. Anger fuels the song, but beneath that is hope. Hope that voices raised together can break what seems unbreakable. Rage, yes, but also resilience.
Unfortunately, the fight of these women (and some men) has disappeared from public consciousness again because the world has moved on and it no longer makes the news. But the situation remains acute, which is why I would like to use my small platform to remind people of this.
Closing thoughts
Colours of Pain is more than a collection of tracks. For me, it is a reckoning with apathy, oppression, denial, and the ways we damage ourselves and each other. The album moves between poetic abstraction and direct confrontation, because sometimes you need both. At its core, it stands firmly in a humanist space: defending dignity, critical thought, compassion, and responsibility. Not as a comforting message, but as a refusal to accept indifference as the final answer.