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1. |
The Wastelands
04:00
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I lent upon the gate
when frost was spectre-grey,
and harvest lands were desolate
in the weak eye of day.
The tangled vine stems that scorched the sky.
The ancient pulse of birth was sunken hard and dry,
and every spirit upon the world was fervourless.
The lands sharp features seemed to be
the century's corpse out lent.
The crypt, the cloudy canopy.
The wind, the death lament.
Upon the growing doom,
the impending sound trembled through.
Now when the light is leaving,
no life from the night's mist.
And echoing through the wastelands,
night crushed out the day.
The crypt, the cloudy canopy,
The wind, the death lament.
Upon the growing doom,
the impending sound trembled through.
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2. |
Stygian Awakening
04:12
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You are the wraith in my awakening.
Pull me from this darkness that just never ends.
Cold caresses burn dry ice, through angel eyed, poisoned beauty.
Bewitched by these charms.
Fire branded onto the flesh of this shroud,
screaming death so madly serene.
Blue scarlet spatters on freeze dried bones.
Scorched on black sand.
Healed by the touch of broken hands.
Crushed into eternity.
Drowned in air and sunken bliss.
Resurrected into a twilight coma,
in this Stygian awakening.
I flee to the shores of the midnight streamline.
Seep from the pores of endless night.
Escape from the chains of deafening muteness.
Redeem my soul in Stygian light.
I flee to the shores.
Seep from the pores.
Escape from the chains.
Redeem my soul.
I flee from your seething smile,
consumed in annex flame.
Light of my cerulean blackness,
micro blain of my brain.
Floods my senses in red.
Now pierce my thoughts with sapphire,
and bleed me of you, till you are dead.
Bleed. x3
Bleed me. x6
Bleed me of you.
You are the wraith in my awakening.
Pull me from this darkness that just never ends.
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3. |
The Harvest Moon
03:58
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Under the summer roses when
the fragrant crimson lurks in the dusk.
Death comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend with a thousand memories.
And dreaming through the twilight.
Even ourselves with this clouding of the mind.
In spite of the insidious mastery of song,
I awake to find the dawn is grey.
When the soft silver silver rain is falling there is no rest.
Where are there tears enough to drown the sun?
Look in the dark where the rails run,
and asks you funereal questions
under the harvest moon.
Of the wild red leaves where the dead wait for you.
Gone from this dream, miles from earth.
I have passed by the watchman,
I have gone unwilling to explain
And dreaming through the twilight.
Even ourselves with this clouding of the mind.
In spite of the insidious mastery of song,
I awake to find the dawn is grey.
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4. |
Orwellian Future
03:43
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The serpent like a river moves among them
and mingled as it coiled upon each eye.
Yet out there in the depths nothing is modified.
And not every voice of mourning will save the choirs
or lifting altars with silent answers pressed upon the stars.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not one will know of the war.
Not one will care at last when its done.
Dead at their words, do they understand?
Their frail deeds rage against a dying light.
Could I raise the veil that hides our future?
Symbols of ancient songs mournfully passing.
And not every voice of mourning will save the choirs
or lifting altars with silent answers crept upon the stars.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Half sunk a shattered visage lies.
Here our days pass under shade.
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5. |
Corridor of Shells
04:20
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The sea was once too at the full
and around earths shore.
But now I only hear its long withdrawing roar
To lie before us like a land of dreams.
To be with neither joy, nor love, nor light.
And we are here on a darkened plane
retreating to the breath of the wind.
And here the dead lie, and shame the land from which we came.
And wrecks passed without a sound, and through the corridors of shells,
its lashings charmed and malice reconciled.
Frosted eyes were there in the corridors -
though the corridors of shells.
New waves out of the night’s obscurity,
drawing back into far depths of memories.
To be with neither joy, nor love, nor light.
And we are here on a darkened plane
retreating to the breath of the wind.
And here the dead lie, and shame the land from which they came.
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6. |
The Wavering Shadows
04:07
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We yearn no more for the sun,
and look no more for the morning.
Thou art the beauty of silence.
The love of years is wasted like the snow.
Turn towards the furthest clouded hill.
As the woods grow cold,
I have watched the strongest go.
We are only the wavering shadows
thrown by one candle,
drawn upon the moonlit door;
When life shone warm in thine eyes,
the tribulations one somehow survived.
Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
and left to muse upon the solemn scene.
The starlight diminishing the cast towards the nothing.
Our path emerges then closes within a dream.
From the depths I fly from the lone vale we loved.
And ever in my dreaming I see wide miles of waste.
We are only the wavering shadows
drawn upon the moonlit door.
When life shone warm in thine eyes,
the tribulations one somehow survived.
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7. |
Hidden Shrine
04:40
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Let not the dark,
its prying ghosts peer on my retreat,
and see the fragments of a broken lie
scattered at my feet.
I fashioned it, that idol of my own,
of metal strange and bright;
I made my toy - I made my toy a god.
I raised a throne to honour my delight.
My steps turned ever to the hidden shrine;
Unaware, my soul dwelt only in that spot divine,
And now a wreck lies there.
This haunted pathway of the grove was lit
with lamps my hand had trimmed,
Before the altar in the midst of it
I kept their flame undimmed.
My steps turned ever to the hidden shrine;
Unaware, my soul dwelt only in that spot divine,
And now a wreck lies there.
My steps turned beyond the heavy trees,
and in the east the day is heralded.
When dawn is spread
I shall have gathered up my heart's desire,
I shall have forged a sword in a deathless fire.
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8. |
Graveyard Sculpture
03:13
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You must not mind the cold
still said to haunt this land.
Long since gave up pretence
Like a graveyard sculpture in the storm.
Where were they all years ago -
now having shaded out?
Make up a song of your destiny.
We know when the valley streams flow
they leave their tatters on barb and thorn.
The lone and level sands stretched far away.
Persisting solemnly in an icy haze.
Backed out of all this now too much for us,
in a time made simple by the loss.
The road there, that only at its heart, is your getting lost.
Where were they all years ago?
Cold as a spring but yet so near its source
now having shaded out.
Down in the flood of remembrance
make up a song of your destiny.
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9. |
The Failing Dawn
04:08
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Perhaps if summer ever came to rest
through days like oceans in obsidian.
The stars now gone from above the city.
I watched for the dead to return,
then fell a stillness to the unshapen dawn.
The faint, the dark, the stagnant water.
Beyond the mist I saw the hungry waves.
The stately dance advances - I should know by now.
Our perfect hours had grown and gone so fast,
and while good things shall pass,
we pray they would last.
To soon we'll see the end
of the days and the realms we amassed.
I looked down on the saddest city lane,
I walked into the rain.
The lamps expire and the shadows fall.
Unprinted silence in a double dream.
The stars never to return to the city.
I watched as the dead returned,
Then fell a stillness to the failing dawn.
The faint, the dark, the stagnant water.
Beyond the mist I saw the hungry waves.
Our perfect hours had grown and gone so fast
and while good things shall pass,
we pray they would last.
To soon we'll see the end of
the day and the realms we amassed.
I looked down on the saddest city lane,
I walked into the rain.
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