Paroles de Into The Painted Grey

Agalloch
69500
The jagged lines in these wooden hands
Speak of a silent aeon below the depths
Of an austere ebon tide
For centuries kingdoms have risen
Upon the ancient hands of a god
Once severed for the world's birth
A sacrifice to the storms of life
Now darkness is thine sanctum
Temples of magma steam across the grey
The arc that transcends my iconic pride
For I am not an ageless god, no, I am imprisoned by time
These ancient palms shall once again be mine
Hands...hands that lift the oceans
To vertical depths above the stars
For when I die, the universe will die with me
And all will be lost forever gone
Where am I?
How long shall I suffer here?
Forlorn in the cold neolithic embrace
Forsaken deep in the sullen tide
How long shall I suffer here?
Perched on the cliffside gazing out into the brine
My archaic beard pours downward and joins the feral sea
I am the heritage; the quintessence of myth and legend
The archetype of Pagan might and divinity
Hands...hands that lift the oceans
To vertical depths beyond the stars
I gather a celestial blanket around these tired bones
And finally slumber in the clouds of ice
These are my hands...
...so it is done
InterprèteAgalloch
LabelFTS
Paroles ajoutées par nos membresParoles ajoutées par nos membres

Les internautes qui ont aimé "Into The Painted Grey" aiment aussi :