1. |
Mist upon my shoulders
01:48
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2. |
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I will bring your bones back home,
Far too long they’ve been gone.
Hiding far up in the mountains,
I will be their guiding light
I will howl with a voice of thunder
Deep into the blackest night,
I will sing a lullaby
To appease the wind
And retrieve your perditioned mind.
I will chant above the swell
Of the dark and raging sea,
I will shout my song in hell.
Nowhere will my song not be.
Yes I’ll sing your bones back home
To a peaceful resting place.
So from now on my beloved
I can watch over your grave.
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3. |
The serpent's Lay
05:31
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Sometimes at dusk
When the sun is falling,
Its heat escaping,
I see His yellow gaze.
Searching the cool of the evening,
His slinky body
Appears past me
And He looks me in the eye.
Oh my shiny friend
Your fangs have no mercy
But you exhale grace
Like a nature’s gift.
We’ll meet again in the dark,
I’ll come at your rattle
And we’ll explore the night
Through your eyes.
We’ll hide under a stone
And sing our serenade.
Your tongue and my tabor
Together in a lay.
Inside an old dead tree,
A hollow sanctuary,
We’ve found our sacred burrow
To chant, my friend.
My golden-eyed friend
Ssss Slipery
And lonely
You’re crawling
Between my dreams
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4. |
The witch's moan
02:32
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In the forests, in the woods
Hear the demons dancing.
In the forests, in the woods
Hear the monsters’ chant.
They are moaning in the night
Calling their Lord to come down.
In the forests, in the woods
Hear the demons’ chant.
Go with them in the fire,
Follow them into Hell.
They will take you further,
Ask your soul to be brave.
In the forests, in the woods
Hear the demons dancing
In the forests, in the woods
Hear the monsters’ chant.
Feel cleansed in the flames,
See the eyes of Nature’s glance,
Hear the spirits of the ancients :
Be a witch, my friend.
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5. |
Horses in my head
01:44
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6. |
Buffalo dusk
04:28
|
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Heat
Dust
Storm
From the depths of the vapour trail
There's a shadow rushing.
A big black flank roaming,
Myriads of ghosts behind Him.
Feral eyes, dark as night
Are staring at me.
Surrounded by the herd I am small
As a speck on the ground
As a speck on the ground
Sound the death knell of nature,
Its kings are gone.
Spell doom for the great plains,
Only wind carries on.
Carries on
The wolves howl their lament
On the buffaloes' graves.
No more dusty storm raging
In the barren flatlands.
So dry as dust
It won't be long now.
Release your dead
Kings of mighty heads.
So dry as dust
All is done.
So dry as dust,
The buffaloes are gone.
Their hooves don't hit the ground no more.
Dust are the prairies,
Dust our bones,
So dry as dust,
The buffaloes are gone.
Dust are the prairies,
Dust our bones,
So dry as dust,
In the flatlands.
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7. |
Ode to the dead
05:28
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I am the caverns,
I am the trees,
I am the dogs barking at night,
I am the leaves falling apart,
I am the moon,
I am the cliffs
Tormented by the cold seas,
I am snowflakes in the silence,
I am the bright glooming dusk.
I am the wind
I am the dust
Do not weep for me for I have gone.
Gone into thunder rumbling
Gone into your shadows
Gone into the wild waves crashing
Gone into the desert’s soul
I am the fire (x4)
I am the chant of the owls,
I am the shore at low tide,
I am the moss,
I am stones,
I am the warmth of the dawn.
I am the roots,
I am the sage and the castle,
I am the salt,
I am the sand,
The flooding rivers through the lands.
I am the fire (x4)
I am the ashes
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8. |
The Earth from my mouth
03:35
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9. |
White deluge
04:22
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Overwhelmed by a dreariest world,
Lugubrious and mournful,
My ideals entombed
As our dreams are doused.
I’d rather sink inward
Than lose my sanity,
And become a forlon heart.
Neither empty nor full,
I’m drowning
In the vastness of my grief.
Hear the moan of the misunderstood,
Those who’ve been flooded by pride
Vanity, haste and grudge.
Hark the chant of the dead,
Reminding us our shallowness.
The void swallowing humanity
The ferocious appetite of us
For doom and disillusion...
Neither empty nor full,
I’m drowning
In the vastness of my grief.
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10. |
Mist inside my bowels
02:19
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FERVS France
Ancient spirits, veiled shades, ageless legends.
Wild.
Archaic. Primordial.
Earth, sown by
musical souls, poetry dusts. Manure of love, of hate.
Of creation and destruction.
We are legacy and morrow.
We are ashes and blossoms.
... more
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