1. |
Ancient Sea Town
01:05
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2. |
The Subterranean Stench
07:58
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Cold sighs shutter and spread through
Peaked roofs covered in shingle and snow
Silent streets where no step echoes
Doorways framed by dull fire glow
White church glares from its hill near
Gravestones crooked and battered by time
Grotesque steeple reaches upward
Grasping at stars set in the sky
Dark men forgotten and old brought
Orchids plucked from southerly lands
Rituals lost to blue-eyed fishers
None that still live understand
Black robes cover their features
Creaking limbs sound terrible hums
Wood doors slam as they assemble
With wax hands they beckon me come
In lines they shuffle toward the hill
Inside the church floor opens
In vain resistance I stand still,
But then I’m drawn into the opening
Descending deep into the cavern
Down stairways carved from living stone
The dripping walls growl in the shadows
The clicking chatter of wet bones
Procession sets upon a clearing
In squirming earth and fungal forms
A distant piper sounds his wind spells
The circled crowd extends their arms
Hidden gurgled voices join in their calls,
my heart aches
They shiver in wild and rapturous pulse,
their hands raised
A pillar formed by sickly flame
Crawls through the air but casts no shadow
Its stench envelops all surroundings
With clawing grips they gather moss
and fling it toward the hidden sea
We join together to honor what’s older than man
and will outlive him
Springs promise, that green waits
beneath the grim snows, as it has been
Music and light, constructed in secret
to fill the earth’s great halls
Extended beyond by things which are learning to walk,
but should crawl
From unseen depths come winged horrors
With forms too gruesome to describe
Those that gathered ride them toward
The black sea fed by oily tides
A beast, though restless, somehow stays
I’m urged to follow on its back
I flee instead into the waves,
Swept away through cold and black
I wake among those who would say
There is no truth to what I tell
But I can’t escape from what I saw
The world is tainted by that smell
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3. |
God of Panic
09:56
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Night controls the sky
with black and cold
While his body lies
unmoving in the grass
A single star appears
and shines alone
It flickers through
his still and silent mass
Young girls passing by
take pause to see
In whispers
they laugh at what they’ve found
He rises to pursue,
the maidens flee
His hooves
loose gravel from the ground
Men construct a home
where he can rest
That ascends,
in marble, toward the sun
Some, in mourning, weep,
and some protest
But still they build
until their work is done
His image traced in stone
reflects the moon
From high above
his eyes sit wide and still
He travels through the woods
to see his tomb
Then slips away
like shadow toward the hills
A face on the wall with its eyes set white as empty shells
With mouth open smiles at the secret words it once could tell
The names of the gods and the houses where they once were seen
His smile hints at madness and the truths inside of dreams
Panic borne by coming day
Takes all sight and sense away
Desperate to escape the gaze of carven eyes
Aimless, running forward into the fading night
Dawn fills the sky and the low trees fail to hold the dark
Passing through the leaves, the light thrusts itself within the bark
Branches creak and splinter and erupt in shards of curling wood
Blanketing the ground where the vanished god and man once stood
Paths marked by cloven feet
At a single point will meet
In clearing lit by morning the ground sits cold and low
The temple’s white foundation reflects the new sun’s glow
Wind from below draws a rain of dirt and blackened leaves
Groans from the walls as its covered surfaces are freed
Hidden things upset by intrusion and incoming light
Reveals what’s at rest, what is not within a mortal’s sight
Bodies stored in waiting pose
Skin wound tight on ancient bone
In place to serve forever, their master from the fields
Their eyes move as the sound of distant hooves draws near
Pulled by wooden shackled bearing
Before the hidden steed
The smell of anchored travels breach the oily fissure’s crowning speed
Pummeled rites the halted march
Its lingered horror spoiled
Radiates in crooked lines, its clay cold hands through bared earth coils
Grasping over land, it holds
He has them.
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4. |
They Seek Baryba
08:52
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Summer’s warmth drifts away
As autumn’s gown descends
Still untorn by the winds
Still safe from winter’s grey
Yellow forests cry
Women stand alert
Their swollen bellies churn
Invigorated they reply
With voices loud and bright
Their faces ooze allure
Their lips part
Ecstatically and as one they recite
“Women, in summer wait for love
And you, born of woman, must prepare
To stab and burden whom you can and if they won’t conceive, continue to another who is bare”
Their skirts, like branches fraught with leaves
Spread like a path
Cut through dark woods that leads
Men toward their task
May she that bears no fruit die in shame
Autumn turns greenery to gold
Dead leaves fall, collecting on the ground
Baryba’s face is hidden deep below. The women strain to hear the roar they know he’ll cry when he’s found
They plead “Baryba, let us know
Where your head rests,
Now that our wombs have grown
Our forms attest
That we have carried fruit in your name”
“Forest, show me where he waits!”
Point where we must go!”
They dig through fallen leaves
While their bellies stretch and grow
Their weary bodies sink
But still they wander on
They lift themselves and run
With what strength has not yet gone
The glowing sun soars high
To perish behind trees
Where frantic voices fly
And pursuing women plead
“Forest, show me where!”
Trees shiver and obey
Their leaves pour
Inviting those still in search to exclaim
“Here is god!
His stone head revealed!”
They kiss his face and meet his static glare
“Accept what we bring,
This small fruit we yield.
Forgive us, this was all that we could bare”
They dance for their god
His face now concealed
By children born to those assembled there
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5. |
Cassap
13:23
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A field lies empty and her legs lie open to the ground, unspoiled, where no man has stepped
Her voice, projected through the earth, her mouth is placed beside a hole where her song is kept
A hiss sounds in reply
Her eyes directed to the sky
Serpents gathered from their nests surround the prostrate maiden, as her song had said
They slither and they wrap themselves around her naked form, revealing only hair and head
Their mouths drip in pools upon her chest
They hold their grip, constricting every breath
Then loosen, and in an instant all are gone
Beneath the ground they hiss with her in song
Away, from the walls, through the gate
Lightly she treads on the grass
She runs, but lets no sound escape
No word, no cry at her pass
All creatures cease their chatter as they stare
Their heads bowed at her sight
The hunting owl glides silent through the air
The rabbit pauses in its flight
Obscured is the path toward the hill
Bushes cast shadows from the stars
A crowd, waits expectant, voices still
They witness her coming from afar
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I, Voidhanger Records Italy
Obscure, unique, and uncompromising visions from the Metal Underground.
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