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God of Panic

from The Man In The Wood by YAAROTH

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lyrics

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.

credits

from The Man In The Wood, released March 3, 2023

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