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Into the Painted Grey


Agalloch


Patinka? Spausk ir pridėk prie mėgstamų! Man patinka!

Stilius: Sunkioji muzika
Data: 2010 m.






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




Esamas tekstas

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

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