Vargtimmen pt. II

The rain pours down with pain, dampening the straws of hay Flowing down my face, mingling with tears Tears of despair and rage, years of emptiness and hate Soon swept away by the flames, mouldering ashes All that remain, is a pile of charred bones Raising dust for the wind to carry far away The rain pours down with pain, yet they sing and dance Floating in a trance like state, bewitched by the chanting Masked faces far below me, laughing mockingly The first torch is lit, soon followed by others This is it now, it will all end, on this solstice's night Flame, come take me, swallow me Oh great nothing, devour me Light it up, burn it down May the gods, accept our sacrifice Flesh to touch, flesh to burn Do not keep the wicker man waiting As flood I'll return, I am your sacrifice Your corpse will rot into the fields, you'll famish and starve As plague I'll return, going to destroy your world With fever you'll burn, and I'll save none

In the woods not far from here, stands an age old dead tree On a meadow once green, nothing grows now They used to hang people from this oak, or so they legend claims Beneath the shadows of these branches, witches and heretics have burned The ground is dead and stained black with blood, the sorrow of centuries it bears No man, bird or beast dares to wander here Even during daylight hours darkness always seems to be near The soil is poisonous and swarming with snakes Oh, I tell you, it's a cursed place Here meet the pale and the dead, here the most coldhearted will dread The pale and the dead, ghosts from times long gone Relics of past dread, they walk beyond the sun When the night falls, the mist rises from the depths of the dead, cursed soil Damned, forgotten souls, centuries of old, wake from their cursed sleep of empty eternity The pale and the dead wretched souls that prey on living flesh The pale and the dead, souls unset, forever doomed to haunt The pale and the dead, beyond dawn and daylight they stalk

Instrumental

Still Holding on to a memory (of a dream) Clung to a ghost of the past, I am entangled in a maze (of the self) With no way out ...Alive Tired of the empty promises of a new brighter dawn Tired of all your fucking lies, that you keep preaching on Tired of all the hypocrisy, all the scorn, and double morality Only refuge is in a dream, but the dream always dies An image of a desolate meadow (it's a dream) All black, dead and barren, paints itself unto my cornea (it's for real) I know, I've seen it before ...In a dream, maybe? The drugs don't work anymore, immune to all the pills Too afraid to sleep, too tired to live Can't sleep, the visions haunt me Should I close my eyes, would I dare?, dream, my last sanctuary Now twisted into a morbid nightmare ...Without an end The fever's getting higher, burning inside me like fire The shadows are getting deeper, oh dawn, why won't you come? Tired of being alive, of thinking, of breathing So why not just end it? Right here, right now The sickness burns in my veins, working like a daze Yet I am too scared to end my days

How chill is morning, how cold its melody. On a season of withering, when time stands still I listened and the wind spoke to me, I heard the woods sing to me. Reciting poems and myths, from earliest of ages Shadow of a crooked rowan tree, looks more like a bear in sleep Season fades along with its leaves, until one plough day earth covers earth Cold, son of the wind, freeze the winter willows Chill the birch chunks, Cold, son of the wind I listened and the rain whispered to me, I heard the streams murmur my name. Shared their timeless wisdom, a cruel tale of nature unveiled Until one plough day earth covers earth

The pathways in hiding I trudge, a mere wanderer am I Philosopher, soul of songs, naked, ragged and torn Treasures of kings bear no meaning for me, your morals and laws are not for me Through the air, on wings unseen, arrive my treasures, unmeasured Like a ghost I glide from shadow to shadow At the edges of your known world, in your dreams I hide On wings of winds, like a ghost of winter I breath my cold of thousand yesterdays Someday the whole world will know: Misanthropy is not phase And where I go, you can't follow

Instrumental