LOADING DATA
Ordo Draconis
Members | |
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Last known | |
1337_Misanthrope | Bass (1996-2001), Guitars (1996-?) |
Member(bands): Infestis, Dark Remains, Weltbrand | |
Rahab | Guitars (1996-?) |
Mir-h iD | Keyboards (1996-?) |
Tyrann | Vocals (2001-?) |
Member(bands): Le Grand Guignol, Dregoth, Vindsval, Nibelland | |
BM | Bass (2002-?) |
Past | |
Digna van der Put | Bass (1996-2001) |
Member(bands): Imbolc, Sabbatical Goat | |
Arco | Drums (1996-2002) |
Member(bands): Blunt Knife Idol, Empire of the Scourged, Ides, Verdorven, Temple ov Decibel, Göll, Weltbrand | |
RSDX | Vocals (1996-2000) |
Member(bands): Hell Militia, Weltbrand, Bunkur (live), Styxian Industries (live), Bethlehem, Dark Remains, Funeral Winds, Valkyrja, Goat Torment (live) | |
Marco de Groot | Drums (2003-2007) |
Member(bands): Radiathor, Rouwen, Altar, Bleeding Gods, Blind Justice, Houwitser, Thanatos, Usurper, Abyss, Mandator |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
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1 | When the Cycle Ends | Demo | 1997 | Show album |
2 | In Speculis Noctis | EP | 1999 | Show album |
3 | The Wing & the Burden | Full-length | 2001 | Show album |
4 | Camera Obscura Pt. 1: The Star Chamber Reviews | Full-length | 2005 | Show album |
5 | Camera Obscura Pt. 2: A View with a Room | Full-length | 2005 | Show album |
When the Cycle Ends
Members | |
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Band members | |
Moloch | Vocals, Lyrics |
Rahab | Guitars |
Bob | Guitars |
Midir | Keyboards, Lyrics |
Arco | Drums |
Guest/Session | |
Femke | Vocals (female) |
Tracks | |||
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1. | A Crimson Dawn | 08:52 | Show lyrics |
A Crimson Dawn (or an Overture to the Raven-Feathered Queen) I: The Harbinger Morrigan: ------------------------------------- Blear with dew came the Morrow And Winds rustled aloud. Down by the Rill, where purled the Flow, The Washer* washed the Shrouds And Nemain** sang of Woe and Sorrow. "O black-feathered Morrigan" II: O’er bleak Winds of Death: ------------------------------------------- A Raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed awaiting Burial. On Wings o’er rueful Winds, she stalked along. A Storm-blast of Blazonry chased the Sands And left the Drift seen afar. A Breeze brought the scattered grains, That flung ’gainst the dewy Scars. A Crimson Dawn awakened! III: Hoarse cries and clanging Steel: ---------------------------------------------------- The Brash and Bray heartened the noble Souls To defy the singeing fervour of Battle. The carmine Sky was brimming with sore Shrieks, As they rose high above the flourish of brazen Trumpets. IV: The beacon Glare: -------------------------------- When, dark by Smoke and red by Fire, Aurora had won the Day, The Sun, is beacon Glare, rose higher And sweltered droughty Fey. V: The Ascent of warlike Fever: --------------------------------------------- The Fervour seared the sanguine Plain And the sour Scent of cold Damp Did linger no more, Undaunted or felled, Shrieks resounded to where their Lot was cast. "O black-feathered Morrigan" “Thrilled by rankling Fury, as I hearkened direful Voices, The red Blaze of Death aroused my vengeful Moods.” “The glorious Grandeur of Battle, at this blood-tinged Dawn, Made boil my ebon Ichor, glistering as Steel whirled.” The carmine Sky in ashen Stains flecked Brimmed with husky moans. Thus the sabre-rattling swoll Into drear Timbres of Ire (The empty Words sceptred). VI: On the Brink of Ruin: ----------------------------------- “Wounds of savage Thrusts Shifted me to the Brink of Ruin. And the Grave Burden borne Struggled tho’ I strained Life” VII: A Draught of Immortality: ------------------------------------------ A Raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed watching the Battlefields. On Wings o’er rueful Winds, she stalked along. “Thrilled by rankling Fury, as I hearkened direful Voices, The red Blaze of Death aroused my vengeful Moods.” “In Awe of ancestral Victories won I unsheathed and brandished my Sword Once more, dreadful Countenances fell Until the baleful Knell rang triste.” After the dismal Rise of the sullen Sun, Ravens reap the rich Morning Harvest, And the drenched Earth is sated by thousands And splendid Glory has been gained. The ardent Ashes that flare Smoulder with more Afterglow Than a midsummer fever would leave And now the Embers are fanned. * In full the Washer at the Ford, has been told to wash the Clothes of those Warriors already destined to fall in Battle. A Warrior, who saw her washing his blood-stained Clothes, had seen the Prediction of his own Death. ** Nemain is one of the three Forms attained by Morrigan. She is known as Scaremonger for she sowed Panic among the Warriors Wives. |
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2. | Fading Daylight | 01:02 | instrumental |
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3. | The Gloaming of the Haunted Eve | 04:48 | Show lyrics |
The Wanderer: --------------------- After Odysseys thro’ utter Spheres I stravaig o’er mist-wreathed Hills. At Evenfall I wander the Moors, Where the twilit Gloaming abides. Doleful Dirges ride the chilling Winds and elven Lights twinkle in the Dark of Even. Still the thick Mists darken his Pathway. However, at random, he makes for the sonorous Rushing of Torrents and the Sparkle of Wills-o’-the-Wisp. Thus he arrives at a Torrent, where sang a lily-white Naiad. The Undine of the Streamlet: ------------------------------------------ Hark ye Wanderer and walk yon Way, Wander e’er more fore’er and a Day, For none die roam these Paths before, But Thine have crossed theirs ‘across the Moors. The Wanderer: ---------------------- Alack! As fair as seemed the billowy Moors, So Foul was laid a Snare of Yours. A Wraith appears ‘pon eldritch Stones, As lurid Mirages raise the Torrent, That slopes upwards to the pearlwhite Crown Of Snow and hyaline Frost… The eerie Weepings, echoed deep For a Covenant to come, Beckon and, unredeemed, They lurk in their cursed Slumber. The Enaidis haunt the Vale of Tears, The mirthless Shades errant, That sojourn in the Dark Caverns. Yon the Knell seems for Aye. A Night Season, seething with Mists, Advances and the Moon enshrined Shimmers by its pale white Rays O’er the whimsical Plains of Death. Mountains soar with eternized Crests, Grimly silhouetted ‘gainst the Sky, Like wuthering Spires ‘scarped by great Eld And gyred by the Shroud of Fog. |
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4. | The Nightwanderer | 07:59 | Show lyrics |
A mystical Landscape rises up at Dusk, A Valley, o’er which a violet dim Light shines With huge attractive Power. A place concealing many lost Lives. No longer do fallen Souls suffer earthly Dimensions, But wander fore’er. The Spirits: ----------------- "To enter this lost Dominion One must die by his own Hands. Leave your Prison of Flesh and Blood And gain eternal Life" My Soul yearns for this Dimension. My Spirit separates from my Flesh Witnessed by the hypnotizing black Moon, My Soul will find its Rest. And as I travel towards the violet Light, My Path is surrounded by burial Mist. A Vision appears clearly before my Eyes, A Dimension, where Sorrow ne’er dies. In this magnificient fullmoon Night My fallen Soul is reborn. I took my Destiny in Hand And left this earthly Curse. The Spirits: ----------------- "You have fulfilled your Destiny, Nightwanderer. May you find Rest, in the Valley of Shatters" |
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22:41 |
In Speculis Noctis
Members | |
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Band members | |
Rahab | Guitars |
Bob | Guitars |
Midhir | Keyboards |
Moloch | Bass, Vocals |
Arco | Drums |
Guest/Session | |
Maaike Arkesteyn | Vocals (female) |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Arco | Layout, Logo |
Hans Pieters | Mixing, Mastering, Producer |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Opus Draconum | 04:12 | Show lyrics |
Collaudentur veterrimi Collaudentur dracones In speculis sunt In penetralibus tellis Dracones stellantis noctis. Quis capit vos mente, Quis comprehendit vos mente? Vos quibus sapientia oblita, Opsque, vestrum numen, Et ad creandum et ad consumendum; Qui antea fuerunt ac erunt in perpetuum. Elicio vos, me audite! Evoco ex penetralibus tellis Accipite haec sacra qui obeo vobis; Accipatur veterrimis deis Extolled be the most ancient ones Extolled be the serpents, the dragons Lying in wait, the dragons Of night strewn with fulgent stars Reside in the bowels of the earth. What spirit would understand thine, Let alone comprehend? Thou who bears elusive wisdom, Masters the numinous art and wields the power Both to create and to dissolve; Who was here before and will be hereafter. I summon thee, harken! I conjure thee from deep within The bowels of the earth Accept this sacrifice I offer As to be accepted By the most ancient gods |
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2. | From the Foundations of Chaos | 08:13 | Show lyrics |
The burning stars were falling And the sky had turned red. When the conjuration was complete, The eldest force reappeared To show us the Golden Age And guide us into the new dawn. The seven seals, that are broken, Have released the hidden knowledge. The serpent that is now released Will reclaim this mortal world. Through ancient wisdom and sacred bonds Pandemonial chaos will be unleashed. Appear before us, o serpent awakened, Rise up from thy resting place, Bless us with thy darkest grace And release us from our earthly chains. O ancient serpent, hear our calls, Thou who hast the infinite knowledge: From thy resting place in the bowels of the earth, Reveal thy wisdom, the cosmic key To the children of this sacred tribe, That we may be unified with our destiny. Release the spirits of war and plague, The heralds of pestilence, Unleash despair upon the human race And let fire rain from the spheres. Let the eldest force reappear And embrace us with its knowledge. Open the portal and bring forth the hordes Of the hidden race. From the foundations of chaos, Awake the serpent from her slumber, For when night appears in shades of red And the stars have fallen down, A sword will appear in the sky, A signal for the hidden race, That the boundaries have been broken And the portal has been opened. From the desolate places, Within the caverns of the earth, They arise and float Like mist, vengefully. After the completion of this conjuration A terrible silence fills the wastes, For the serpent will awake from her slumber And claim her rightful throne once more. |
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3. | The Conjuration Complete | 06:30 | Show lyrics |
From the four points the horizon has set, From every sacred place in the angle of this earth, We have gathered in order to complete the circle, To fulfil the knowledge for centuries hidden. Behold, for the circle shall be complete again: In this vast nocturnal, desert landscape, We have congegrated to restore the ceremonial paths. It is time, keepers of the knowledge for centuries hidden, To unleash the forces which bide in the bowels of the earth For we have congegrated on this sacred ritual ground To release the elder gods from the sea below all seas. (Preliminary Invocation of the Spirit of Cuthalu:) Day of living, rising sun Day of rising, of the slumbering ones Day of fortune, grand delight Day of splendour, brilliant night Thee I summon, serpents of the deep Thee I invoke, darkest forces of the deep Come forth children of the underworld Release thy vengeance upon mankind Ancient gods, rise from thy sleep, and lay thy wrath upon mankind By the ever-shining star of the north. Arise from thy slumber, in the ice-cold waters of the sea Below all seas. Arise, from the caverns of the earth Arise, from the desolate places Arise, spread thy plague out over mankind Arise, and bring despair upon mortal man Arise, authors of pain, bringers of despair: Inherit what belongs to thee! As the conjuration was complete, The serpents rose from their sleep And appeared upon the mountains of dawn. The winds of fire that have been unleashed Are riding through the dismal skies And leave us standing hypnotized. Behold, for the circle is complete again. From the heavens they set forth Bringing destruction below Completing their destined mission And once again the hidden race Shall rule upon the face of the earth For it is foretold. |
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4. | Deirdre of the Sorrows | 08:27 | Show lyrics |
’Twas amidst such festive cheer, When Fedlime worth a noble peer Attended in his vaulted hall A banquet twixt the golden walls And known the gleesome son of Dall Danced the guests and bade the ball, As harp he touched this sumptuous night, Till from the lap his daughter cried. In a richly attired chair sat the crowned guest of honour, Conor Mac Nessa. Among-st his retinue was the grey Cathbad, a druid very much skilled in the lore of divination, whom he sent for and bade foretell the infant’s prospects. The welkin was cloudless and strewn with twinkling cressets. The Druid’s lips began to tighten in his lenten face, as upon the glaring stars he gazed intently. O how unduly did the minstrel rejoice at a prosperous future; yet all hope was bound to relapse, when the seer heaved one deep sigh, and at length foretold the woe to come: "As the moon gleams on the wave, So shall be her sheen, Bright and distant alike. She shall wed a king, yet in her name Shall bale come ’pon Ulster, Ere Connacht shall make their strike." The outcome compelled the fuddled guests to suffocate the infant until the king restrained them from their attempts: "Halt! By my troth, that doom I shall avert. I decree that she will live her infancy hidden from the sight of man and grow into my very consort, lest she be touched by the foul, covetous hands of some foreign king." And so winters passed e’er in solitude; Save syrens’ descants the grove seemed mute, In the heart of which she dwelt unseen, As was, I trow, her wintry sheen. In her eyes a sombrous gloom Did gleam that wintry day, When bare trees in silver wrought Were but a shroud of grey. A final glimpse she had besought And ventured o’er the rampart And came to see a raven reap his prey. While deep crimson stains and imbues The unbroken drape of unspurred white, Which the dark of eb’ny wings grimly contrasts with, Her heart was throbbing high at the sight. The image had stirred long. One day, after their fruitless hunt through the forest, Naisi and his brethren, the sons of Usnach, left the forest’s lap and strolled alongside the glade. Out from the tower’s window that made her visor, her voice beckoned thrice and so having answered to her yearning call and yearned themselves, they released her to steal into the night together. Naisi at the voyage: "Fare thee well Ulster, that I may see you once more. Already the tang of the sea I can respire; we set sail to Caledon! Our ’scape has startled the king and thwarted his plans, thence-- the vasts of the sea we cross -as in full career our ship reeves the wintry waters, driven by pursuit. Naught can be seen beyond the sheets of rain. O, have the afreets forgathered at our course or has some foul curse been lain upon us?...Now our ship comes nigh succumbing to the vagaries of the gales, when fuscous forms of searing cliffs loom from the hovering mists. Will the shores bid us welcome, in either soft or rugged embrace? Landfall at last!...A-nd so to Glen Etive we make our repair..." In Glen Etive a living was built devoid of the king’s wrath, save of his eyes. No voice whatsoever was raised from Ulster that reached their ears, until the paces of a rufous steed had swept their ways to the secret lodge: on the steed sat Fergus, who had, in good faith himself, appeared on the stage again. A pledge of peace he pleads that very morn -In spite of all the qualms she utters so in vain. This fatal rede had dreams put to scorn, As the days of the Branch could live again. Lo, nectar drops hover o’erhead And on auburn wings glide yonder, But don’t these drops glow damask-red In the sun on their path hither Like grumes of blood? How calm the sea was in that line, So calm, o’er waves they skim, Lightly ’pon light feathers swim With sorrow’s swan in frothing brine. "...Ulster’s cliffs were frowning ahead already. Indeed, days of war were back again and it would not last long, ere din smote their ears..." Was it but geiss that bade him stay With Baruch and not the twain convey Safely to where the arms weren’t there Open to welcome, but forgèd to tear? Or was it the nerves war has within Though tailward turns war for those (that are) to win Or ambitions tangled, like when one is raked Within the garment the threads all break? And so bale did brew, As was thus foretold By what the fixed stars for the Druid drew, What’s fixed to unfold. The king did not welcome, yet sent a spy, Whom they behind the window did descry And, when dismantled, with the chess-king smite; Struck blind -if he wasn’t before- of sight. Caught in the summoned slough of slime -Like as before-, the gallant trine Were shorn off their heads in the burden of time. Deep crimson stained the unbroken drape of white And into the sea, Where she e’er was, will e’er be, Deirdre did merge With the glee of her dirge Of deed and dream asunder. The Two Trees Perchance did blight after loss of life Give rise to a yew ’pon either shrine Their tops to join and to entwine So as to bear the fruits of strife. |
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27:22 |
The Wing & the Burden
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
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June 20th, 2001 | Skaldic Art Productions | SAP 006 | CD | |
2001 | CD-Maximum | CDM 0604-1856 | CD |
Members | |
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Band members | |
Tyrann | Vocals |
Rahab | Guitars |
1337_Misanthrope | Guitars |
Mir-h iD | Keyboards |
Digna van der Put | Bass |
Arco | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
ACW | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Paris 1574 | 01:40 | instrumental |
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2. | The Rite of Catherina de Medicis | 05:53 | Show lyrics |
STRUCK by a disease no doctor could identify Nor explain the horrible symptoms. King Charles IX was in a dying condition: He was rapidly fading away Leaving on the bed nothing more than a mere reflection Of his former self. The queen mother, who ruled him totally And was likely to lose all her power Under another government, was therefore forced to act, After the king’s astrologers proved themselves useless. She would consult the oracle of La Tete Sanglante And invoke the infernal spirit herself. The queen mother and her servant Now took a child, pure of heart and morals, And prepared him for his first communion. When the child was prepared after some days, He was guided into the room of the ill king By the queen mother and her accomplices. The queen mother, her main servant and a Jacobin monk Strangled the child after he received his communion On the steps of the altar. The head, severed from the body by a single strike, Was then placed on a large plate and brought near the king. From there on the conjuration began, and the infernal spirit Was now able to speak through the mouth of the beheaded child On the questions that were asked he replied "Vim patior - I’m being forced - vim patior." The king’s face turned white and his blood ran cold. He understood clearly what he was told. He was not under the protection any more Of the powers he repeatedly summoned. Paralysed by fear he lay on the bed, As his last words were ’remove the head’ And he said nothing else until his last breath And without any hope he awaited his death. |
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3. | Turpentine Chimaera | 06:01 | Show lyrics |
The First Image on Entering the Gallery THE aspect I thought to partake of Casual quiet alone and the Wide grimace to be inane Aud’bly smirk sardonic scorn. Still the choice I have between Both, one of which receives a Grimmer grin when mordant the wit Which leaves but one: return. The Second Image A web of vivid movements Holds me in its grasp, though Profound its depths which lured me in To bounce my eyes back Into the gallery. The First Image A rigid stare peeps from behind The hollow sockets deep Forcing mine to delve into their Dazzling darkness Torn is the parlous shroud This apparition wears Who breathes anew resuming voice With the view of finding ears. The Third Image Thus the mind sharp with Feverish chimaera, each Sense engaged and Merged into a blend (The cries that found themselves Shiv’ring o’er my spine Stir such taste of turpentine that Space is clear to resound), Myself I find Drawn into the landscape To be surveyed and dwelt upon. Half of the sun submerged For gleams and shades alike To ridge the erstwhile gloss and stretch The slopes up to the pike, My wand’rings reel dispersed Across the canvas wide Which exceeds by sharp relief Its listless lifelessness: The same chiaroscuro through Which the expanse immures me Obtrudes the path that leads beyond the Horizon’s span. The Fourth Image -Out through the next…No Wind to carry the sheets, has vexed the Placid sea, breathes tacit silence… The surface so conspicuously smooth; I must be the pivot of these ripples, As Aeolus I press the winds from their recess And hoist the canvas as the sailor. Waves of one wave, first Plodding and jostling, break step, Unravelled, steal a march To dislodge me hence from this watery grave; The dark waters I ride Revolt, swill out the dead seaweed, like Shoals through meshes ’scaped The sea, unshackled, bellows: Liberty! Still inordinate, the sway Remains for me to bridle and vanquish Until more sharply delineated… Likewise, the primordial artist Attributes his work to the dissolution Of such a tremulous framework: The Order of the Dragon. The Second Image Out of the gallery. Yet one last glimpse, surmised right so: My web I’ll weave accordingly, A tangled clasp, a hauling net, Though, extricated, the spirits flee And strings shall be pulled again. |
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4. | Wreckage | 09:03 | Show lyrics |
STILL afloat: persevering at each shore That may seem, would I comply, To render me ensconced...the voyage to draw Beyond the compass, And what is more its buoyancy to sustain, While dashing billows the old sails try Life’s vigil to conclude with life’s refrain- The calm before the storm. Untimely night. The pond’rous fetters of the storm Cling when untethered Upon the floor they smite. Thus given vent sways the storm in revelry And brazen mockery. Why plunge into a wat’ry grave And wreck upon sea’s edge Never to reach for which I crave And my very soul might pledge? Against the waves the vessel was matched And intermin’bly, when overcome’s the breach, From high upon the breakers launched and dispatched Until at the craggy beach, Where shattered rest the carcass, Now subject to decay, And scattered tangly slivers of wood, Bound to rot away. What holds is but of brittle bone, A canopy of curved boughs, Neither grave nor engraved stone, In oblivion to drowse. Lest of the cliff the mere base be the end, Do I scale the precipice Without wings which larks from ether suspend While gapes below the deep abyss. But vertigo alone, Though precarious th’ascent remains aloft, Cannot tip the balance nor respite prompt Nor win the last moan, But comes another, the tone still soft. Then trees recede and lend me view, A glade remote, briars piercing through A mossy couch a singing lady’s made, Until again they cast their shades. So did thoughts: suggest to me still The quiet of a dark repose And at the same time inspire will The primrose path to oppose. Either way I will proceed. Why slacken a sluggish pace, When toil may very relief concede I can well-nigh embrace? Since here is not where I can rest assured That to rest my lay be laid, Since proximity has ardour restored, What can me dissuade? But, should I leap at the wall? The timeless cauldron gape I saw, The void in which to drown my cares And stifle my but hoarse-worn call, When yet again I wash ashore. "Dissemble not The winces stirred by wry convulsions: Recuperation’s near. "Wretched convalescent, Stagnant are the ancient waters: Redemption’s here". Of what green’s that sheet of moss With which my bed she drapes? Nothing more but the amb’guity Which consuming decay or growth shapes, A sheet with which to smother me, Makes me argue the self-imposed toss. Have I thus wrought a shift of aim? Non sequitur. What mysteries does she hold, or hold Divulged, but me against my will? How can beauty that’s static and cold Yet lose itself, and lose me still For I am resolute? "Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Illness assumes Recovery’s guise. "Is even willingness no Salutary elixir? Beyond resilience your headstrong Fever carries on". No and even so yes This selfsame state, once the port Now the sojourn, one of call, The height has crumbled Or have I in this: Disharmony Bent and snapped the tight-stringed neck As to the heart, When no string can life uphold, Numb and stale within a wreck. The question dawns upon me, Whether the encounter I might have created As such without authority Or I was the Proteus. Still afloat: the isle receding Into the distance, as level upon level was closed In mists the hindsight impeding, The tide of aurora has another day posed. |
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5. | Four | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
IMMORTAL, eternal, unspeakable and unshaped: Spirits of fire! Invisible king, who has taken the earth as his castle: Spirits of the earth! Terrible king of the sea, of the waters in the underworld: Spirits of water! Ghost of light, ghost of wisdom, whose breath gives life: Spirits of the air! Elemental spirits, Hear our words of calling. Grant us the knowledge To see through the second face. Angel with the dead eyes, obey or flow away with the water. Winged taurus, work or return to the earth. Chained eagle, obey this sign or retreat. Serpent in movement, clasp thee at my feet. Or be tormented by the fires of revenge. That the fire may return to the water, That the fire may burn, That the earth may fall upon the earth, That the air may circulate. Appear before us, rulers of the elements, For we call upon thee From the four points of the compass, Where your empires are hidden. Appear before us! Spirits of fire, ruled by Djinn From thy empire in the south, Spirits of the earth, ruled by Gob From thy empire in the north, Spirits of water, ruled by Nicksa, From thy empire in the west, Spirits of the air, ruled by Paralda From thy empire in the east, Appear before us! |
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6. | A Crimson Dawn | 07:58 | Show lyrics |
I: (The harbinger Morrigan) BLEAR with dew came the morrow And winds rustled aloud. Down by the rill where purled the flow The Washer1 washed the shrouds And Nemain2 sang of woe and sorrow. "O black-feathered Morrigan" II: (O’er bleak winds of death) A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed awaiting burial. On wings o’er rueful winds, she stalked along. A storm-blast of blazonry chased the sands And left the drift seen afar. A breeze brought the scattered grains, That flung ’gainst the dewy scars. Her frenzied squawks exhorted the ravage And the hewing of sheen blades. And blood suffused the barren earth, ’Pon which the crimson dawn glowered. A Crimson Dawn Awakened! III: (Hoarse cries and clanging steel) The brash and bray heartened the noble souls To defy the singeing fervour of battle. The carmine sky was brimming with sore shrieks, As they rose high above the flourish of brazen trumpets. IV: (The beacon glare) When, dark by smoke and red by fire, Aurora had won the day, The sun, in beacon glare, rose higher And sweltered drouthy fey. V: (The ascent of warlike fever) The fervour seared the sanguine plain And the sour scent of cold damp Did linger no more. Undaunted or felled, Shrieks resounded to where their lot was cast. "O black-feathered Morrigan" "Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices, The red blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods." "The glorious grandeur of battle, at this blood-tinged dawn, Made boil my ebon ichor, glinstering as steel whirled." The carmine sky in ashen stains flecked Brimmed with husky moans. Thus the sabre-rattling swoll Into drear timbres of ire (The empty words sceptred). VI: (On the brink of ruin) "Wounds of savage thrusts Shifted me to the brink of ruin And the grave burden borne Struggled tho’ I strained life." VII: (A draught of immortality) A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed watching the battlefield. On wings o’er rueful winds, she stalked along. "Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices, The roan blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods." "In awe of ancestral victories won I unsheathed and brandished my sword Once more. Dreadful countenances fell Until the baleful knell rang triste." After the dismal rise of the sullen sun, Ravens reap the rich morning harvest, As the drenched earth is sated by thousands And splendid glory has been gained. The ardent ashes that flare Smoulder with more afterglow Than a midsummer fever would leave And now the embers are fanned. |
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7. | Tiphareth - the Burning Balance | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
WALKING upon the thin line In search of the astral light, Travelling between instinct and reason In search of the sanctum regnum, Which leads the animal instinct And battles against reason, Which she tries to pollute Through the wealth of her reflections. Reject the empire of reason And allow your mind to dwell Beyond the pool of reflections To strengthen yourself in the valley of madness, But beware not to weaken your attentiveness, Lest you will fall off the cliff of sanity, For it is a thin line you walk In search of the sanctum regnum. But can you resist the seducing forces While attempting to use them? Can you get the masses drunk And resist the alcohol yourself? Can you control the circle of astral light Without floating with its tide? Can you maintain the rite of summoning With a woolen cloak to protect you? Then proceed and use the tool of initiation And let your mind dwell within the reflections (of the astral light) And learn to understand the balance of powers, For nothing is useless or lost. Every word, action or movement Can bring you out of balance And throw you off the cliff, For it is a thin line you walk In search of the sanctum regnum. |
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8. | Necropolis | 06:32 | Show lyrics |
[A necropolis on a November night.] THE CORPSE. "Unruly moon, Why dost Thou thus unleash Thy hounds, Which howling break the silent tune: Our breathing space resounds. "Or chase, not to break, the orbit of old: To wax and to wane like the waves, Which gravitate towards Thy caelestial cold And we in our lowly graves." HECATE. "Replenished is the Lantern But the waxen waves pursue Reflection in your extant eyes, Which lidless still wink at them, While until dawn’s dew Nature may yield to your sighs." THE CORPSE. "Memento, my fellow corpses, the menacing Muse ’Mongst the carnival of Paris In 1832 to swell His revenues. "Does there ring a knell? How this fearful Fiddler reaped The crowd of souls, With high-handed sway His human hoard heaped. [Aside]: "As for us, as Orpheus first in glory thrived, We his partisans Forwent our skill, which Death should have revived, Outperformed and quiet." "But fasting has done, Therefore let us our state requite." [Enter SELENE, ARTEMIS and HECATE as onlookers-the Danse Macabre. Exeunt the goddesses. Enter DEATH playing the violin.] THE LATE DOCTOR. "Let us not with cracking din harrow, Alarm the dead in bliss. Retry thy toil, Bow, mine to dismiss: Recast thy amorous arrow. "Bow, at thy strings let wind shudder with glee Undying harmony solemnize. No greater artist of cure shall rise Than Thou, booked for eternity." THE CORPSE. "A puppet, amenably ensnared by the Fiddler’s strings, A voice at least, rising up to fall. Where some may live the frozen moments of our wasted wings, Others, indifferent, but sprawl. "Bar him who on a farandole abreast insisted, Who pardoned the Pariah in His stall Freely for partaking in the grand parade of Paris, Within his own vocation to cover all." [The sun is rising. THE CORPSE levels his last speech at DEATH.] "Unruly Law, I may loathe how with contenders Thou viest, When masked ’mongst a masquerade all the more All having en masse enticed. "Yet I owed to Thee, which Thou didst confine, Ambition not unspoken for, But Thou canst not ever Thyself undermine, Hence mute is Thy music: Encore!" DEATH. "Agile fools, do not trim -as ye define- My fearsome form of old With frothy flattery; Timeless air I breathe as to engulf Such outcries brief and bold, "Casualties, as ere long the loyal dawn Shall Nature from Her apogee To Her source restore. True to form, the honours of last word, Last laugh and dance are mine To be." |
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9. | Tar and Quill (A Gloss) | 00:46 | instrumental |
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49:19 |
Camera Obscura Pt. 1: The Star Chamber Reviews
Members | |
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Tyrann | Vocals |
Rahab | Guitars |
1337_Misanthrope | Guitars |
Mir-h iD | Keyboards |
BM | Bass |
Marco de Groot | Drums |
Tracks | |||
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1. | (Espionage) | 02:52 | Show lyrics |
Espionage (lyrics by Mir-h iD) Beelzebub: fly fleetly, lest limelights will expose our dodge to the camera’s eye. go shadow their every move. sensors, zoom in. Sensors: even the tendering of one dulcet dewdrop, which, drifting, alights from that warm, drowsy air, is one surplus touch for its sweet, swelling apples to burst and brim over with velvety juice; ignorant of us that make their clocks tick, they doze in the shade of the habitat’s tree. Beelzebub: translators, decipher. Interpreters: The Tree of Innocence shoots from Nature’s unsullied garden, gratifying their tongues without the tang of our grievance. Beelzebub: is this the right hand of His work? Sensors: Rather He tried His sleight of hand! Sensors and Interpreters: no hand of the grandfather clock can indicate, nor tolling sound, the time to change time, but we, the black field hands that steer the Wheel, can counter the cast-iron grasp of His Law. Sensors: Hush! he awakes. Beelzebub: sensors, zoom in. Sensors: his blank eyes roll upwards and grope for the something which he can’t twig but does tantalize him, taunt him. his fingers are shuddering and tense with strange wonder to reach for the sky that remains too remote… |
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2. | Mock Trial | 07:18 | Show lyrics |
Mock Trial (lyrics by Mir-h iD) Lucifer: “I will ascend into Heaven, I, the son of the dawn. I will exalt my throne above the stars of God. I will sit also upon the mount of congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds: I will be like the Most High. Gabriel: How are you fallen from Heaven, Lucifer, son of dawn?” (Isaiah 14: 12-22) Michael: How come most sudden venom runs wildly in the blood? With hollow heart would you spill … Lucifer: blood which is my own? Speak no more of blood to me, whose blood-money is thicker. This heavy heart’s anatomy … Michael: What can be got from a stone? The Angelic Choir: The morningstar rivals the mounting sun but, ere the zenith’s touched, searing spears sweep away his cries. Beliar: Marshal, don’t pause. Can’t you hear how your ambition churns their blood and fuels their sputtering hearts. Can’t you hear how your winged words take off, rocketing from their raucous gullets. The new poltergeist of Time has wound up your tin soldiers, and now they wait for your adept command. With no added water, but the salt of tears, distil our grief into a charge of gunpowder. Zero in, keen marksman, the missile of our grievance and sure the warhead will speak the truth. Lucifer: March – with me beyond the marches. Fall – into line – rank on rank. Forwards – to uncharted ground, Justice – is on the march. Chorus: March! Lucifer: Charge! Beliar: Projected on your bloodshot eyes, a screen burning with eyestrain, a lurid nightmare reels inside the camera obscura. Lucifer: It is not to hide I’m in a smokescreen but to record over doubts made flesh as ghosts. Stung by smoke and tears, the occipital lobe registers the actual frontline. Beliar: Your worst doubt to date is here in the flesh, itself without doubt and callous. Kill it off and triumph, or else embrace your sorry defeat. Lucifer: Your bribe will yield but innocence Michael: while you have been found wanting. With heavy heart I’m here to spill… Lucifer: blood which is your own? Speak no more of blood to me, whose blood-money is thicker. Michael: This heavy heart’s anatomy… Lucifer: What can be got from a stone? The Crown Court Gabriel & Prosecution: …the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Lucifer: As Heaven is my witness, for truth it is we rise. Gabriel & Prosecution: On the indictments, how does the defendant plead? Lucifer: Not guilty of rising, but proud to have risen above guilt. Gabriel & Prosecution: You can refute the wealth of incriminating evidence? Lucifer: Elsewhere our busy minds were forging our alibis. Justice is blind or squints through your specs, wearing truth’s stiff wig and coif, but when truth wears my face, please frame its mug-shot for me. Prosecution: Like when your conceit blared out afar, your voice ebbs as echoes in deep mines of space; your mockery whirls on the brink of brash perjury. Please no more gibes or we’ll add contempt of court. pathologist: A body’s unearthed, its face maimed beyond recognition. Lucifer: Don’t fear, since I can identify the body. It’s truth. Gabriel & Prosecution: Forensic research established the corpus delicti. Lucifer: How humble the fingerprints signed to the work of him who set free the phoenix from its cage. Gabriel & Prosecution: Truth is not safe in amorphous, free chaos. Beliar: Objection, your honour. I ask for reprieve. Not his rising but his doubts gave rise to his sorry defeat. With strings tweaked on two sides by sensory forceps, the wavering nerve centre burnt. He’s privy to your minds and truth, but knowledge is not power. Michael (Chief Witness for the Crown): Then why didn’t his defeat give rise to doubts? I saw none, when I met his dry eyes and with the blade of truth overcame untruth. Gabriel & Prosecution: Objection overruled. Is there anything left to be said in your defence? Lucifer: “Hoe magh het Godt van ‘t hart, dat hy zoo laegh, zoo diep Vernedert dien hy tot den grootsten scepter schiep? Een edelmoedigheit, geheilight tot regeeren, Voor eenen minder zich zoo zwaerlyck kan verneêren, Van heerlyckheid ontkleên, en opstaen uit haer’ staat, En stoel, dat zy vervloeckt den glans en dageraet Van haren opgangk, ja veel liever had gebleven Een schaduw, zonder verf, een niet, en zonder leven Want niet zyn, overtreft verkleening duizentwerf” (Joost van den Vondel’s Lucifer, Act 4) Gabriel: On the counts of dissension, public violence and contempt pending the court procedure, we, the jury, find the accused party guilty. As they have forfeit their civil rights, their profiles shall be deleted from the celestial registers. In lieu of disciplined rehabilitation, we sentence them to a state of eternal expulsion. |
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3. | (Vesper X) | 03:42 | Show lyrics |
Vesper X (lyrics by Mir-h iD) Quomodo cecidisti, fili aurorae? Lamentemur. Are we but shades cathartically shed on a camera obscura of sorts capsized, washed out, indistinct and begrimed here we must grovel with dignity under a still peephole. Are we mere statues clustered in our glasshouses - a box with no confession - to kneel under a bronze law ? But the bronze law melts down here as the smoking gun inhales. There’s only ourselves and the deaf walls moving in on us; only ourselves and our questions snapped at only ourselves, sécreted once they’re secréted. We are our own time-bomb flowers as we’re cluttering a hothouse in a blind spot, a mass grave that’s manured with scandal in no sun. |
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4. | Writhing Tonge | 07:30 | Show lyrics |
Writhing Tongue (lyrics by Mir-h iD) Lucifer: … but to swathe me, the wound, in globular gauze, that is, with salt to smother, upon which to cultivate the waste, was quite another. From the suppurating heart, pounding with magma, through cracks I had crept towards open space: A circumscribed garden, where time, if not languished, but dallied like the new race, snoozing alike in a surreal siesta under a bower of unknowing bliss. The idyll be mellow and pure, yet idle ideals did fester the malignant cells of my memory, seething like brimstone with sorrow’s own secrets of purulent war! The quill’s been plucked from my broken wing, my pulsing wrist’s open to flow poisonous ink. But why should my hand rather tremble than pen the first germ of history’s scenario on the tabula rasa, the hymen unflushed as yet on the eve of time? The earth will not be bare of but bear the germs of my existence. My skin has sloughed off and my Tree stands upright in the womb of fecund innocence. Eve: if I entered the haze, won’t it steal into me? if my tongue won’t tell me, why, dear stranger, should I follow your glide which defies it? Lucifer: How dare you distrust a divine visitation? Have I abruptly carried you off? Do you think a stranger can be this intimate? Allow me to implant a sense of the divine. Eve: I alone govern the tongue to lap up the juice from a fruit so rife with vistas of divine relish it could erupt any moment; but our familiar orchard looks unnatural and remote. Lucifer: Swallow or choke in the bittersweet seed. Convulse in the death-throes of knowledge. Does not the hangman-tree’s overripe fruit tender tastes hitherto unknown? Gabriel: Exit your home of indulgence. No cover is constant ‘gainst spite and distress. Wear sorrow’s shroud and naked shame’s sackcloth, but no dressing can heal the world’s hideous wound. The infectious miasma of decay swiftly swells up the world over, the wood of Nature’s tree bows to the burden of sin. and Paradise is nothing more but a mirage embedded in your minds. Lucifer: The history of time was condensed in one diminutive drop, where I am the alpha and the omega where, eye to eye, I meet myself, downwards pursuing the spiral revolutions until the bottom line, the end of times, the big bang, when history collapses upon itself. Adam: The tongue is a raw piece of meat, Eve: which writhes with the foul tang of terrible words. Adam: We’re fooled into wisdom, then naked truth shows Adam & Eve: cruelty’s cold angular grin. Adam: The trees shed our guilt to clothe us in shame; Eve: with shame thorns and thistles sting our bare skin. Adam & Eve: Despite or due to the vileness of tang and tantalizing intangibleness, our thirst remains unquenched. Lucifer: My throat is still dry and parched. The tears of heaven shed but salt to preserve and inflame the wound which can’t tell between burn marks of caustic catharsis and frostbites of piercing paralysis. |
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5. | (Angeldust) | 03:01 | Show lyrics |
Angeldust (lyrics by Mir-h iD) w ink ------------------------- win k angeldust for the reckless ghost-writer to burn up your neuron motorway colliding with your cortex then a vo r tex of fe v rish g lass win k ------------------------- w ink |
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6. | Neuron Gutter, Neutron Star | 10:33 | Show lyrics |
Neuron Gutter, Neutron Star (lyrics by Mir-h iD) Lucifer: See how, I to I, eye will meet my selves, heir to their chinese box under seal. Once the toy’s code is cracked, the horn of lips unsealed births open season. Wiretap the tight rei[g]n on which every eye does see X thru channel krosstalk and teknikolour ghosting "your hijack is your salvage" (signed the Pirate) You: but the urban heart gallops pumping through presage-riddled alleyz and the traffic-jam at the gastro-crossroadz with panting pistons of sludgy … f – e – a – r . What if, between each coffin bone < you were free to flee the chafe of post-fugal safety, as petalz by lethean lanez can traffick no quick fix against the Fickle Figment? Lucifer: the warren’s flaring nares would draw in your acrid dew – only to puff out the sulphurous smoke on your nape, shepherd you into your blind bolt-hole. In/out – again – in/out – again – in/out – again – in/out… Red War. victims: Projectiles of diversions, safelight alarms, jitter everywhere; as the bullet’s image is imprinted in the eye; the cartridge fuels up on a database of souls and ignorance making room with a view. White Pestilence. eyewitness: But for wired life, the nucleus is empty, in[ocul]ated against parousia our pilgrim rattletraps trailing our fears Corrupted cargo? Any pathogen hitchhiker to deadhead the (g)hostcars? 3x the trojan horse stuttered … not so the wildfire of chasseurs echoing from its womb. Black Famine. The Equestrian: Like the eagle @ the liver, this scrawny scout, this dark satanic mill, walks with never-healing hunger. Scavenging the century’s corpse for your tablets against me, you, marasmic and meagre, become its daily bread; not the voiceless bodies of hollow men but their disembodied voices. Lucifer: Voices of ether withal – serrated on the edge around the icy bower in Babylon’s concrete covert of knowledge, where a paper plane of death statistics touches down in the dust bin; the crew of fickle figments are go! CNS News Listen ! Silence ! "News anchor stands in, as former chair‘s sidelined on wrong side of today’s pranged bridge." Pro-guard: our tape binds the safeguard of our liberty Anti-guard: they sex up the corpus and through loopholes shoots subconscious sham Pro-g: you pander to panic; why mask our seeing-eye dog? Anti-g: if you say eye for an eye, why must it shrug off scrutiny? “pre-polls show pro-guard hit home at play-off talks.” “vertigo beaten at ballot-box.” Delegate: A patch in a changing world, the star chamber’s been installed. I am Legion, organeyesensation my stars will watch you flocks my scourge will strike with furious anger I am Legion, the view from your room. Lucifer: … punchdrunk in the gutter you see the puffing chimney on the scarlet lab in after-pangs, the labial scars on the door, the brass placard: “Here the B-st from the Sea sired the B-st from the Earth,” voice-over devouring lung [inside out] Here also the B-st from the Sea begot the bastard son of dawn, undevoured in the stern chase of red dragon chasing mother chasing her elusive bait of twelve stars, one-third unhinged, shooting stardust leaving the world, punchdrunk in the gutter, a neutron star. You: We’ve become T-cells tearing at the hand that feeds us. Kamikaze anarchitects drawing the bottom skyline. The Pirate’s mutineers shaking the tower’s wide foundations to feed the bloating crypts of babel. Unto Earth-turned-Sea, drowning out History, golden bathtubs, boilers bleed and dissolve. The sky’s the limit tumbling over the last vertigo a wagging tail. |
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7. | (Debris) | 04:07 | Show lyrics |
Debris (lyrics by Mir-h iD) this sun or this morning’s star sinks into the blind spot of temples would we drift off the defaced map if we rose and dogged its profound plunge we chase ourselves on phantom legs and the dirt that grows them if, ransacking the ziggurat’s shabby bricolage of shops, we defile the virgin dust and the chemist’s mouldy balm, overtake the queue of bones for the sanctum’s cut-rate bargains, would for this alone the dome collapse upon us? we chase our past but pass our chase it is the arcane, glamourous dummies that scan us the arcane, glamourous intercom that hems it’s the neon script that reads it’s us who are being read. we are almost on display for sacrifice at the counter in no sun. |
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39:03 |
Camera Obscura Pt. 2: A View with a Room
Members | |
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Tyrann | Vocals |
Rahab | Guitars |
1337_Misanthrope | Guitars |
Mir-h iD | Keyboards |
BM | Bass |
Marco de Groot | Drums |
Tracks | |||
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1. | (Project...) | 02:07 | |
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2. | Cloak & Dagger | 06:56 | Show lyrics |
Cloak & Dagger (lyrics by Mir-h iD) Whodunit? The silent witness? I’m beside myself with laughter in the dark, neutrally stabbing the general sulk. Don’t bank on the pokerfaces with their monochrome make-up. I know their type. Edited and clean-cut. Dot dot dot. I could blow their cover casting shadows on the screen. I’d walk the bloodhound myself. The sallow ivories are with me dogging my steps as I toddle off till the iron curtain falls. Under my skin a private-eye likes watching with venetian-blinds shuttered to half-light. If your capital slots you in, isn’t that necessity enough for you? The way the stuff of dreams moves you, numb like furniture (in that order). The perfunctory hypostasis of being being overinsured. So I showed the toothless my poetic license to… […] Sure they got it. My IOnU, the pound of flesh, my soul. which cost a bomb. And even then I gave the formal toothpaste smile. Don’t take me for some narcotic narcist, grafted back unto the den’s womb that feeds the hypothalamus on the assembly sideline, the mirror-maw’s white-line. No matter. Let the dusty dusky jurist, who peers over my shoulder and keeps that blotted copybook, shut his trap. It’s time to twist the knife. Turn the key to freedom and free will. The golden flick-knife refracts the half-light into a reel of whizzing pictures; in free indirect discourse the body with organs recharged. the hand that strokes; the fresh blood of my veins; my femme vitale; leaves in bloom; fall into spring; home sweet home. Under my skin a private-eye likes watching with venetian-blinds shuttered to half-light. Whodunit? The silent witness? I’m beside myself with slaughter, framed into untimely chalk lines, arranged with a pillow over my head. The cloak is ragged, the dagger cold. |
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3. | Sirius Fever | 09:15 | Show lyrics |
Sirius Fever (lyrics by Mir-h iD) No sleep. Day 1 on the Dogon calendar. My lips are crackers, while my swollen tongue tastes but harmattan dust. These are Dog Days: rabid dogs slobber with spastic tongues; sweltering fevers chainreact, glowing as they foam with delirious drivel. The radio’s picked up transmissions from HR2491, when tuned in at the ritual pulse – I could smell how it melted into Nommo’s ether. … “Puisque vous savez si bien ce qui est hors de vous, sans doute vous savez encore mieux ce qui est en dedans” (“Micromégas”, Voltaire) – our inside is drawn towards the outside. Patterns emerge… At the Bandiagara cliffs, a native swung at ropes he charmed into a DNA-like coil, before he plunged into the spirit world. The Nommos, the griot said, will revisit us in human mould to channel the passage of souls to the white dwarf orbiting its star! The Dama dance, Youdiou. The Kanaga masks breathed. Their geometric pageant made me forget the crude hands that cut them. Like a sketch can still exude its original genius. The stilts walked the dancers to their earthly apex, their lithe bodies mechanically oscillating, as if it were their last dance. Sigui, Yougo Dogorou. The olaburu of the Awa-society must know that the ‘random’ accidents tie in with an overwhelming cadence. Butterflies in a cosmic storm. Imina-Na is everywhere. Little do they know that their superstitions have sprung from a source much deeper, though dead to the world. Satellites in a cosmic storm. The serpent is everywhere. Let me devour the flesh and the blood of your wisdom. For a moment I felt the lightness of being and binary vision; I am the sigu tolo of the orbiting eyes gazing in amazement. The inside and the outside on the perilous fringe. These are Dog Days: rabid dogs slobber with spastic tongues. Sweltering fevers chainreact, glowing as they foam with delirious drivel. |
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4. | The Dancefloor Clinic | 06:29 | Show lyrics |
The Dancefloor Clinic (lyrics by Tyrann) The earth is calling The flute’s enthralling rodent mammal muridae Before the blooming of a new age, Renaissance takes death for granted Xenopsylla Cheopsis cutting a caper Cavorting on the oeuvre of Ferdinand Loh In the cadence of hooves’ adagio White linen garments beckon eagerly As every third is found prostrated on the hearse St. Rochus, St. Sebastian, Bless us from the scourge of mankind Semen sowed in septic seedbed Bodies’ buboes budding freely Flagellating flesh-furrows Doctor Beak, the juggler Conducting his dreaded bâton Exposes random lung and boil The maestro of the mortals Spins obscene pirouettes throughout the operating theatre Hemidemisemiquaver tarantella-scherzo Caravacan Phylakterium: get thee hence, blackest of plagues! Your lymph-notes’ rhythm Is symptomatic of S.evere A.cute T.anzwut S.yndrome Expelle pestem a me et a loco isto et libera me Col tempo, la tempesta Gluttony satiated? |
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5. | The Don of Venice | 08:41 | Show lyrics |
The Don Of Venice (lyrics by Tyrann) Faustus: "This night I’ll conjure though I die therefore... Welcome, so enter and disabuse me of my flesh Solve yet dissolve my body-and-soul binary Behold, the magic of my senses is still unimplored Tempter, shape-shifter, complete my mind’s soliloquy And push me off the verge of my intellect’s scope No more postponing my possible feats I bid theology farewell, requesting knowledge divine" Mephistophilis: "Ich will mich hier zu deinem Dienst verbinden, Auf deinen Wink nicht rasten und nicht ruhn; Wenn wir uns drüben wiederfinden, So sollst du mir das gleiche tun." Faustus: „Werd’ ich zum Augenblicke sagen: Verweile doch! Du bist so schön! Dann magst Du mich in Fesseln schlagen, Dann will ich gern zugrunde gehn! Dann mag die Totenglocke schallen, Dann bist du deines Dienstes frei, Die Uhr mag stehn, der Zeiger fallen, Es sei die Zeit für mich vorbei!“ Faustus: "Sophistophilis, debar me no longer From the illicit treasures life reserves" Mephistophilis: "Take off your carnal cloth, take off ! So proffer your arm, you shall see ... ... you may wander !" Faustus: "May the angle have changed, my vista un-narrowed Yet tedious the place that sees parallels intersect Where further means back and back we shall dash... now!" Faustus: "Deeply imprinting the earth’s moldy squalor, Twisting the ants’ dim hour-glasses at will, I quench my lust on each Helen’s bosom But gape, precious adviser, what’s dulling my eyes? Spout out, sordid cretin, who dares to parody Him who bears the aureole of might With this absurd parade at april’s lecherous dusk?" Mephistophilis: "Honour where honour is due!" (Enter an Old Man:) "I see an angel hovers o’er thy head And, with a vial full of precious grace, Offers to pour the same into thy soul: Then call for mercy, and avoid dispair." (Faustus stumbles and utters strange agonizing sounds) Faustus: "The missing link, the balance, the superego ... myself I am the architect of this metropolis, (of) my egoverse’s over-ripe fruit!" Chorus Lamentum: Blessed are his eyes, waxen wings alike, Incandescently heated by Mammon himself, Sparing him the shattering clarity: His deserted house of cards: a charnel babel. Thus unsolved remains the equation The indescribable bears the ineffable As the campanile’s swarthy hands Are pointing towards heaven again Faustus, dying: "I saw Venice and I’d ... |
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6. | (Eject!) | 02:37 | |
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36:05 |
The Wing & the Burden
Members | |
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Band members | |
Tyrann | Vocals |
Rahab | Guitars |
1337_Misanthrope | Guitars |
Mir-h iD | Keyboards |
Digna van der Put | Bass |
Arco | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
ACW | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Paris 1574 | 01:40 | instrumental |
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2. | The Rite of Catherina de Medicis | 05:53 | Show lyrics |
STRUCK by a disease no doctor could identify Nor explain the horrible symptoms. King Charles IX was in a dying condition: He was rapidly fading away Leaving on the bed nothing more than a mere reflection Of his former self. The queen mother, who ruled him totally And was likely to lose all her power Under another government, was therefore forced to act, After the king’s astrologers proved themselves useless. She would consult the oracle of La Tete Sanglante And invoke the infernal spirit herself. The queen mother and her servant Now took a child, pure of heart and morals, And prepared him for his first communion. When the child was prepared after some days, He was guided into the room of the ill king By the queen mother and her accomplices. The queen mother, her main servant and a Jacobin monk Strangled the child after he received his communion On the steps of the altar. The head, severed from the body by a single strike, Was then placed on a large plate and brought near the king. From there on the conjuration began, and the infernal spirit Was now able to speak through the mouth of the beheaded child On the questions that were asked he replied "Vim patior - I’m being forced - vim patior." The king’s face turned white and his blood ran cold. He understood clearly what he was told. He was not under the protection any more Of the powers he repeatedly summoned. Paralysed by fear he lay on the bed, As his last words were ’remove the head’ And he said nothing else until his last breath And without any hope he awaited his death. |
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3. | Turpentine Chimaera | 06:01 | Show lyrics |
The First Image on Entering the Gallery THE aspect I thought to partake of Casual quiet alone and the Wide grimace to be inane Aud’bly smirk sardonic scorn. Still the choice I have between Both, one of which receives a Grimmer grin when mordant the wit Which leaves but one: return. The Second Image A web of vivid movements Holds me in its grasp, though Profound its depths which lured me in To bounce my eyes back Into the gallery. The First Image A rigid stare peeps from behind The hollow sockets deep Forcing mine to delve into their Dazzling darkness Torn is the parlous shroud This apparition wears Who breathes anew resuming voice With the view of finding ears. The Third Image Thus the mind sharp with Feverish chimaera, each Sense engaged and Merged into a blend (The cries that found themselves Shiv’ring o’er my spine Stir such taste of turpentine that Space is clear to resound), Myself I find Drawn into the landscape To be surveyed and dwelt upon. Half of the sun submerged For gleams and shades alike To ridge the erstwhile gloss and stretch The slopes up to the pike, My wand’rings reel dispersed Across the canvas wide Which exceeds by sharp relief Its listless lifelessness: The same chiaroscuro through Which the expanse immures me Obtrudes the path that leads beyond the Horizon’s span. The Fourth Image -Out through the next…No Wind to carry the sheets, has vexed the Placid sea, breathes tacit silence… The surface so conspicuously smooth; I must be the pivot of these ripples, As Aeolus I press the winds from their recess And hoist the canvas as the sailor. Waves of one wave, first Plodding and jostling, break step, Unravelled, steal a march To dislodge me hence from this watery grave; The dark waters I ride Revolt, swill out the dead seaweed, like Shoals through meshes ’scaped The sea, unshackled, bellows: Liberty! Still inordinate, the sway Remains for me to bridle and vanquish Until more sharply delineated… Likewise, the primordial artist Attributes his work to the dissolution Of such a tremulous framework: The Order of the Dragon. The Second Image Out of the gallery. Yet one last glimpse, surmised right so: My web I’ll weave accordingly, A tangled clasp, a hauling net, Though, extricated, the spirits flee And strings shall be pulled again. |
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4. | Wreckage | 09:03 | Show lyrics |
STILL afloat: persevering at each shore That may seem, would I comply, To render me ensconced...the voyage to draw Beyond the compass, And what is more its buoyancy to sustain, While dashing billows the old sails try Life’s vigil to conclude with life’s refrain- The calm before the storm. Untimely night. The pond’rous fetters of the storm Cling when untethered Upon the floor they smite. Thus given vent sways the storm in revelry And brazen mockery. Why plunge into a wat’ry grave And wreck upon sea’s edge Never to reach for which I crave And my very soul might pledge? Against the waves the vessel was matched And intermin’bly, when overcome’s the breach, From high upon the breakers launched and dispatched Until at the craggy beach, Where shattered rest the carcass, Now subject to decay, And scattered tangly slivers of wood, Bound to rot away. What holds is but of brittle bone, A canopy of curved boughs, Neither grave nor engraved stone, In oblivion to drowse. Lest of the cliff the mere base be the end, Do I scale the precipice Without wings which larks from ether suspend While gapes below the deep abyss. But vertigo alone, Though precarious th’ascent remains aloft, Cannot tip the balance nor respite prompt Nor win the last moan, But comes another, the tone still soft. Then trees recede and lend me view, A glade remote, briars piercing through A mossy couch a singing lady’s made, Until again they cast their shades. So did thoughts: suggest to me still The quiet of a dark repose And at the same time inspire will The primrose path to oppose. Either way I will proceed. Why slacken a sluggish pace, When toil may very relief concede I can well-nigh embrace? Since here is not where I can rest assured That to rest my lay be laid, Since proximity has ardour restored, What can me dissuade? But, should I leap at the wall? The timeless cauldron gape I saw, The void in which to drown my cares And stifle my but hoarse-worn call, When yet again I wash ashore. "Dissemble not The winces stirred by wry convulsions: Recuperation’s near. "Wretched convalescent, Stagnant are the ancient waters: Redemption’s here". Of what green’s that sheet of moss With which my bed she drapes? Nothing more but the amb’guity Which consuming decay or growth shapes, A sheet with which to smother me, Makes me argue the self-imposed toss. Have I thus wrought a shift of aim? Non sequitur. What mysteries does she hold, or hold Divulged, but me against my will? How can beauty that’s static and cold Yet lose itself, and lose me still For I am resolute? "Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Illness assumes Recovery’s guise. "Is even willingness no Salutary elixir? Beyond resilience your headstrong Fever carries on". No and even so yes This selfsame state, once the port Now the sojourn, one of call, The height has crumbled Or have I in this: Disharmony Bent and snapped the tight-stringed neck As to the heart, When no string can life uphold, Numb and stale within a wreck. The question dawns upon me, Whether the encounter I might have created As such without authority Or I was the Proteus. Still afloat: the isle receding Into the distance, as level upon level was closed In mists the hindsight impeding, The tide of aurora has another day posed. |
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5. | Four | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
IMMORTAL, eternal, unspeakable and unshaped: Spirits of fire! Invisible king, who has taken the earth as his castle: Spirits of the earth! Terrible king of the sea, of the waters in the underworld: Spirits of water! Ghost of light, ghost of wisdom, whose breath gives life: Spirits of the air! Elemental spirits, Hear our words of calling. Grant us the knowledge To see through the second face. Angel with the dead eyes, obey or flow away with the water. Winged taurus, work or return to the earth. Chained eagle, obey this sign or retreat. Serpent in movement, clasp thee at my feet. Or be tormented by the fires of revenge. That the fire may return to the water, That the fire may burn, That the earth may fall upon the earth, That the air may circulate. Appear before us, rulers of the elements, For we call upon thee From the four points of the compass, Where your empires are hidden. Appear before us! Spirits of fire, ruled by Djinn From thy empire in the south, Spirits of the earth, ruled by Gob From thy empire in the north, Spirits of water, ruled by Nicksa, From thy empire in the west, Spirits of the air, ruled by Paralda From thy empire in the east, Appear before us! |
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6. | A Crimson Dawn | 07:58 | Show lyrics |
I: (The harbinger Morrigan) BLEAR with dew came the morrow And winds rustled aloud. Down by the rill where purled the flow The Washer1 washed the shrouds And Nemain2 sang of woe and sorrow. "O black-feathered Morrigan" II: (O’er bleak winds of death) A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed awaiting burial. On wings o’er rueful winds, she stalked along. A storm-blast of blazonry chased the sands And left the drift seen afar. A breeze brought the scattered grains, That flung ’gainst the dewy scars. Her frenzied squawks exhorted the ravage And the hewing of sheen blades. And blood suffused the barren earth, ’Pon which the crimson dawn glowered. A Crimson Dawn Awakened! III: (Hoarse cries and clanging steel) The brash and bray heartened the noble souls To defy the singeing fervour of battle. The carmine sky was brimming with sore shrieks, As they rose high above the flourish of brazen trumpets. IV: (The beacon glare) When, dark by smoke and red by fire, Aurora had won the day, The sun, in beacon glare, rose higher And sweltered drouthy fey. V: (The ascent of warlike fever) The fervour seared the sanguine plain And the sour scent of cold damp Did linger no more. Undaunted or felled, Shrieks resounded to where their lot was cast. "O black-feathered Morrigan" "Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices, The red blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods." "The glorious grandeur of battle, at this blood-tinged dawn, Made boil my ebon ichor, glinstering as steel whirled." The carmine sky in ashen stains flecked Brimmed with husky moans. Thus the sabre-rattling swoll Into drear timbres of ire (The empty words sceptred). VI: (On the brink of ruin) "Wounds of savage thrusts Shifted me to the brink of ruin And the grave burden borne Struggled tho’ I strained life." VII: (A draught of immortality) A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed watching the battlefield. On wings o’er rueful winds, she stalked along. "Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices, The roan blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods." "In awe of ancestral victories won I unsheathed and brandished my sword Once more. Dreadful countenances fell Until the baleful knell rang triste." After the dismal rise of the sullen sun, Ravens reap the rich morning harvest, As the drenched earth is sated by thousands And splendid glory has been gained. The ardent ashes that flare Smoulder with more afterglow Than a midsummer fever would leave And now the embers are fanned. |
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7. | Tiphareth - the Burning Balance | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
WALKING upon the thin line In search of the astral light, Travelling between instinct and reason In search of the sanctum regnum, Which leads the animal instinct And battles against reason, Which she tries to pollute Through the wealth of her reflections. Reject the empire of reason And allow your mind to dwell Beyond the pool of reflections To strengthen yourself in the valley of madness, But beware not to weaken your attentiveness, Lest you will fall off the cliff of sanity, For it is a thin line you walk In search of the sanctum regnum. But can you resist the seducing forces While attempting to use them? Can you get the masses drunk And resist the alcohol yourself? Can you control the circle of astral light Without floating with its tide? Can you maintain the rite of summoning With a woolen cloak to protect you? Then proceed and use the tool of initiation And let your mind dwell within the reflections (of the astral light) And learn to understand the balance of powers, For nothing is useless or lost. Every word, action or movement Can bring you out of balance And throw you off the cliff, For it is a thin line you walk In search of the sanctum regnum. |
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8. | Necropolis | 06:32 | Show lyrics |
[A necropolis on a November night.] THE CORPSE. "Unruly moon, Why dost Thou thus unleash Thy hounds, Which howling break the silent tune: Our breathing space resounds. "Or chase, not to break, the orbit of old: To wax and to wane like the waves, Which gravitate towards Thy caelestial cold And we in our lowly graves." HECATE. "Replenished is the Lantern But the waxen waves pursue Reflection in your extant eyes, Which lidless still wink at them, While until dawn’s dew Nature may yield to your sighs." THE CORPSE. "Memento, my fellow corpses, the menacing Muse ’Mongst the carnival of Paris In 1832 to swell His revenues. "Does there ring a knell? How this fearful Fiddler reaped The crowd of souls, With high-handed sway His human hoard heaped. [Aside]: "As for us, as Orpheus first in glory thrived, We his partisans Forwent our skill, which Death should have revived, Outperformed and quiet." "But fasting has done, Therefore let us our state requite." [Enter SELENE, ARTEMIS and HECATE as onlookers-the Danse Macabre. Exeunt the goddesses. Enter DEATH playing the violin.] THE LATE DOCTOR. "Let us not with cracking din harrow, Alarm the dead in bliss. Retry thy toil, Bow, mine to dismiss: Recast thy amorous arrow. "Bow, at thy strings let wind shudder with glee Undying harmony solemnize. No greater artist of cure shall rise Than Thou, booked for eternity." THE CORPSE. "A puppet, amenably ensnared by the Fiddler’s strings, A voice at least, rising up to fall. Where some may live the frozen moments of our wasted wings, Others, indifferent, but sprawl. "Bar him who on a farandole abreast insisted, Who pardoned the Pariah in His stall Freely for partaking in the grand parade of Paris, Within his own vocation to cover all." [The sun is rising. THE CORPSE levels his last speech at DEATH.] "Unruly Law, I may loathe how with contenders Thou viest, When masked ’mongst a masquerade all the more All having en masse enticed. "Yet I owed to Thee, which Thou didst confine, Ambition not unspoken for, But Thou canst not ever Thyself undermine, Hence mute is Thy music: Encore!" DEATH. "Agile fools, do not trim -as ye define- My fearsome form of old With frothy flattery; Timeless air I breathe as to engulf Such outcries brief and bold, "Casualties, as ere long the loyal dawn Shall Nature from Her apogee To Her source restore. True to form, the honours of last word, Last laugh and dance are mine To be." |
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9. | Tar and Quill (A Gloss) | 00:46 | instrumental |
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49:19 |
The Wing & the Burden
Members | |
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Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Tyrann | Vocals |
Rahab | Guitars |
1337_Misanthrope | Guitars |
Mir-h iD | Keyboards |
Digna van der Put | Bass |
Arco | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
ACW | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Paris 1574 | 01:40 | instrumental |
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2. | The Rite of Catherina de Medicis | 05:53 | Show lyrics |
STRUCK by a disease no doctor could identify Nor explain the horrible symptoms. King Charles IX was in a dying condition: He was rapidly fading away Leaving on the bed nothing more than a mere reflection Of his former self. The queen mother, who ruled him totally And was likely to lose all her power Under another government, was therefore forced to act, After the king’s astrologers proved themselves useless. She would consult the oracle of La Tete Sanglante And invoke the infernal spirit herself. The queen mother and her servant Now took a child, pure of heart and morals, And prepared him for his first communion. When the child was prepared after some days, He was guided into the room of the ill king By the queen mother and her accomplices. The queen mother, her main servant and a Jacobin monk Strangled the child after he received his communion On the steps of the altar. The head, severed from the body by a single strike, Was then placed on a large plate and brought near the king. From there on the conjuration began, and the infernal spirit Was now able to speak through the mouth of the beheaded child On the questions that were asked he replied "Vim patior - I’m being forced - vim patior." The king’s face turned white and his blood ran cold. He understood clearly what he was told. He was not under the protection any more Of the powers he repeatedly summoned. Paralysed by fear he lay on the bed, As his last words were ’remove the head’ And he said nothing else until his last breath And without any hope he awaited his death. |
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3. | Turpentine Chimaera | 06:01 | Show lyrics |
The First Image on Entering the Gallery THE aspect I thought to partake of Casual quiet alone and the Wide grimace to be inane Aud’bly smirk sardonic scorn. Still the choice I have between Both, one of which receives a Grimmer grin when mordant the wit Which leaves but one: return. The Second Image A web of vivid movements Holds me in its grasp, though Profound its depths which lured me in To bounce my eyes back Into the gallery. The First Image A rigid stare peeps from behind The hollow sockets deep Forcing mine to delve into their Dazzling darkness Torn is the parlous shroud This apparition wears Who breathes anew resuming voice With the view of finding ears. The Third Image Thus the mind sharp with Feverish chimaera, each Sense engaged and Merged into a blend (The cries that found themselves Shiv’ring o’er my spine Stir such taste of turpentine that Space is clear to resound), Myself I find Drawn into the landscape To be surveyed and dwelt upon. Half of the sun submerged For gleams and shades alike To ridge the erstwhile gloss and stretch The slopes up to the pike, My wand’rings reel dispersed Across the canvas wide Which exceeds by sharp relief Its listless lifelessness: The same chiaroscuro through Which the expanse immures me Obtrudes the path that leads beyond the Horizon’s span. The Fourth Image -Out through the next…No Wind to carry the sheets, has vexed the Placid sea, breathes tacit silence… The surface so conspicuously smooth; I must be the pivot of these ripples, As Aeolus I press the winds from their recess And hoist the canvas as the sailor. Waves of one wave, first Plodding and jostling, break step, Unravelled, steal a march To dislodge me hence from this watery grave; The dark waters I ride Revolt, swill out the dead seaweed, like Shoals through meshes ’scaped The sea, unshackled, bellows: Liberty! Still inordinate, the sway Remains for me to bridle and vanquish Until more sharply delineated… Likewise, the primordial artist Attributes his work to the dissolution Of such a tremulous framework: The Order of the Dragon. The Second Image Out of the gallery. Yet one last glimpse, surmised right so: My web I’ll weave accordingly, A tangled clasp, a hauling net, Though, extricated, the spirits flee And strings shall be pulled again. |
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4. | Wreckage | 09:03 | Show lyrics |
STILL afloat: persevering at each shore That may seem, would I comply, To render me ensconced...the voyage to draw Beyond the compass, And what is more its buoyancy to sustain, While dashing billows the old sails try Life’s vigil to conclude with life’s refrain- The calm before the storm. Untimely night. The pond’rous fetters of the storm Cling when untethered Upon the floor they smite. Thus given vent sways the storm in revelry And brazen mockery. Why plunge into a wat’ry grave And wreck upon sea’s edge Never to reach for which I crave And my very soul might pledge? Against the waves the vessel was matched And intermin’bly, when overcome’s the breach, From high upon the breakers launched and dispatched Until at the craggy beach, Where shattered rest the carcass, Now subject to decay, And scattered tangly slivers of wood, Bound to rot away. What holds is but of brittle bone, A canopy of curved boughs, Neither grave nor engraved stone, In oblivion to drowse. Lest of the cliff the mere base be the end, Do I scale the precipice Without wings which larks from ether suspend While gapes below the deep abyss. But vertigo alone, Though precarious th’ascent remains aloft, Cannot tip the balance nor respite prompt Nor win the last moan, But comes another, the tone still soft. Then trees recede and lend me view, A glade remote, briars piercing through A mossy couch a singing lady’s made, Until again they cast their shades. So did thoughts: suggest to me still The quiet of a dark repose And at the same time inspire will The primrose path to oppose. Either way I will proceed. Why slacken a sluggish pace, When toil may very relief concede I can well-nigh embrace? Since here is not where I can rest assured That to rest my lay be laid, Since proximity has ardour restored, What can me dissuade? But, should I leap at the wall? The timeless cauldron gape I saw, The void in which to drown my cares And stifle my but hoarse-worn call, When yet again I wash ashore. "Dissemble not The winces stirred by wry convulsions: Recuperation’s near. "Wretched convalescent, Stagnant are the ancient waters: Redemption’s here". Of what green’s that sheet of moss With which my bed she drapes? Nothing more but the amb’guity Which consuming decay or growth shapes, A sheet with which to smother me, Makes me argue the self-imposed toss. Have I thus wrought a shift of aim? Non sequitur. What mysteries does she hold, or hold Divulged, but me against my will? How can beauty that’s static and cold Yet lose itself, and lose me still For I am resolute? "Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Illness assumes Recovery’s guise. "Is even willingness no Salutary elixir? Beyond resilience your headstrong Fever carries on". No and even so yes This selfsame state, once the port Now the sojourn, one of call, The height has crumbled Or have I in this: Disharmony Bent and snapped the tight-stringed neck As to the heart, When no string can life uphold, Numb and stale within a wreck. The question dawns upon me, Whether the encounter I might have created As such without authority Or I was the Proteus. Still afloat: the isle receding Into the distance, as level upon level was closed In mists the hindsight impeding, The tide of aurora has another day posed. |
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5. | Four | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
IMMORTAL, eternal, unspeakable and unshaped: Spirits of fire! Invisible king, who has taken the earth as his castle: Spirits of the earth! Terrible king of the sea, of the waters in the underworld: Spirits of water! Ghost of light, ghost of wisdom, whose breath gives life: Spirits of the air! Elemental spirits, Hear our words of calling. Grant us the knowledge To see through the second face. Angel with the dead eyes, obey or flow away with the water. Winged taurus, work or return to the earth. Chained eagle, obey this sign or retreat. Serpent in movement, clasp thee at my feet. Or be tormented by the fires of revenge. That the fire may return to the water, That the fire may burn, That the earth may fall upon the earth, That the air may circulate. Appear before us, rulers of the elements, For we call upon thee From the four points of the compass, Where your empires are hidden. Appear before us! Spirits of fire, ruled by Djinn From thy empire in the south, Spirits of the earth, ruled by Gob From thy empire in the north, Spirits of water, ruled by Nicksa, From thy empire in the west, Spirits of the air, ruled by Paralda From thy empire in the east, Appear before us! |
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6. | A Crimson Dawn | 07:58 | Show lyrics |
I: (The harbinger Morrigan) BLEAR with dew came the morrow And winds rustled aloud. Down by the rill where purled the flow The Washer1 washed the shrouds And Nemain2 sang of woe and sorrow. "O black-feathered Morrigan" II: (O’er bleak winds of death) A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed awaiting burial. On wings o’er rueful winds, she stalked along. A storm-blast of blazonry chased the sands And left the drift seen afar. A breeze brought the scattered grains, That flung ’gainst the dewy scars. Her frenzied squawks exhorted the ravage And the hewing of sheen blades. And blood suffused the barren earth, ’Pon which the crimson dawn glowered. A Crimson Dawn Awakened! III: (Hoarse cries and clanging steel) The brash and bray heartened the noble souls To defy the singeing fervour of battle. The carmine sky was brimming with sore shrieks, As they rose high above the flourish of brazen trumpets. IV: (The beacon glare) When, dark by smoke and red by fire, Aurora had won the day, The sun, in beacon glare, rose higher And sweltered drouthy fey. V: (The ascent of warlike fever) The fervour seared the sanguine plain And the sour scent of cold damp Did linger no more. Undaunted or felled, Shrieks resounded to where their lot was cast. "O black-feathered Morrigan" "Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices, The red blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods." "The glorious grandeur of battle, at this blood-tinged dawn, Made boil my ebon ichor, glinstering as steel whirled." The carmine sky in ashen stains flecked Brimmed with husky moans. Thus the sabre-rattling swoll Into drear timbres of ire (The empty words sceptred). VI: (On the brink of ruin) "Wounds of savage thrusts Shifted me to the brink of ruin And the grave burden borne Struggled tho’ I strained life." VII: (A draught of immortality) A raven, Morrigan yclept, loomed watching the battlefield. On wings o’er rueful winds, she stalked along. "Thrilled by rankling fury, as I hearkened direful voices, The roan blaze of death aroused my vengeful moods." "In awe of ancestral victories won I unsheathed and brandished my sword Once more. Dreadful countenances fell Until the baleful knell rang triste." After the dismal rise of the sullen sun, Ravens reap the rich morning harvest, As the drenched earth is sated by thousands And splendid glory has been gained. The ardent ashes that flare Smoulder with more afterglow Than a midsummer fever would leave And now the embers are fanned. |
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7. | Tiphareth - the Burning Balance | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
WALKING upon the thin line In search of the astral light, Travelling between instinct and reason In search of the sanctum regnum, Which leads the animal instinct And battles against reason, Which she tries to pollute Through the wealth of her reflections. Reject the empire of reason And allow your mind to dwell Beyond the pool of reflections To strengthen yourself in the valley of madness, But beware not to weaken your attentiveness, Lest you will fall off the cliff of sanity, For it is a thin line you walk In search of the sanctum regnum. But can you resist the seducing forces While attempting to use them? Can you get the masses drunk And resist the alcohol yourself? Can you control the circle of astral light Without floating with its tide? Can you maintain the rite of summoning With a woolen cloak to protect you? Then proceed and use the tool of initiation And let your mind dwell within the reflections (of the astral light) And learn to understand the balance of powers, For nothing is useless or lost. Every word, action or movement Can bring you out of balance And throw you off the cliff, For it is a thin line you walk In search of the sanctum regnum. |
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8. | Necropolis | 06:32 | Show lyrics |
[A necropolis on a November night.] THE CORPSE. "Unruly moon, Why dost Thou thus unleash Thy hounds, Which howling break the silent tune: Our breathing space resounds. "Or chase, not to break, the orbit of old: To wax and to wane like the waves, Which gravitate towards Thy caelestial cold And we in our lowly graves." HECATE. "Replenished is the Lantern But the waxen waves pursue Reflection in your extant eyes, Which lidless still wink at them, While until dawn’s dew Nature may yield to your sighs." THE CORPSE. "Memento, my fellow corpses, the menacing Muse ’Mongst the carnival of Paris In 1832 to swell His revenues. "Does there ring a knell? How this fearful Fiddler reaped The crowd of souls, With high-handed sway His human hoard heaped. [Aside]: "As for us, as Orpheus first in glory thrived, We his partisans Forwent our skill, which Death should have revived, Outperformed and quiet." "But fasting has done, Therefore let us our state requite." [Enter SELENE, ARTEMIS and HECATE as onlookers-the Danse Macabre. Exeunt the goddesses. Enter DEATH playing the violin.] THE LATE DOCTOR. "Let us not with cracking din harrow, Alarm the dead in bliss. Retry thy toil, Bow, mine to dismiss: Recast thy amorous arrow. "Bow, at thy strings let wind shudder with glee Undying harmony solemnize. No greater artist of cure shall rise Than Thou, booked for eternity." THE CORPSE. "A puppet, amenably ensnared by the Fiddler’s strings, A voice at least, rising up to fall. Where some may live the frozen moments of our wasted wings, Others, indifferent, but sprawl. "Bar him who on a farandole abreast insisted, Who pardoned the Pariah in His stall Freely for partaking in the grand parade of Paris, Within his own vocation to cover all." [The sun is rising. THE CORPSE levels his last speech at DEATH.] "Unruly Law, I may loathe how with contenders Thou viest, When masked ’mongst a masquerade all the more All having en masse enticed. "Yet I owed to Thee, which Thou didst confine, Ambition not unspoken for, But Thou canst not ever Thyself undermine, Hence mute is Thy music: Encore!" DEATH. "Agile fools, do not trim -as ye define- My fearsome form of old With frothy flattery; Timeless air I breathe as to engulf Such outcries brief and bold, "Casualties, as ere long the loyal dawn Shall Nature from Her apogee To Her source restore. True to form, the honours of last word, Last laugh and dance are mine To be." |
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9. | Tar and Quill (A Gloss) | 00:46 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
49:19 |
Band ascii art
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