Agalloch все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Life is a clay urn on the mantle
And I am shattered on the floor
Life is a clay urn on the mantle
And I am scattered on the floor
We are the wounds and the great cold death of the earth. . .

"Earth is floating on the waters like an island,
Hanging from four rawhide ropes

Here I sit at the fire
Liquor's bitter flames warm my languid soul
Here I drink alone and remember
A graven life, the stain of her memory
In this cup, love's poison
For love is the poison of life
Tip the cup, feed the fire,
And forget about useless hope...

The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.

A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships

The shallow voice of the wind cries between these ebony wings
The shallow cries of the wind sing a swansong for mankind

Shine on morning skyfire
ablaze this final day
The autumnal end, the dawn of man
The centuries fade below my feet

The birch tree in winter
Leaning over the secret pool
Is Narcissus in love
With the slight white branches.

The slim trunk,
In the dark glass;
But,

Towers...
Deity forged architecture
Swirling in and out of form
Enveloped in the arms of dark matter
Towers...mercurial and flowing...

My work is done

"My allegiance is with the inner self
The dark celestial voice of wisdom
Beyond the dust that is this world"

There is a voice adrift in the starless
and marble black dark space
A voice of wisdom and purity
Beyond the vestiges of sanity

Cast away in solitude between the divide of dimensions
Frozen in timeless aura, a catalyst of colors
The abyss...
I was born in the fibers of oblivion; the saturnine keeper of mystery
and malevolent patriarch of chaos

...they fade into the shadows I cast... (evermore in sorrow)

There lies a beauty behind forbidden wooden doors
A beauty so rare and pure, it would make human eyes bleed and burn...

...She killed herself in the fall...

I am the unmaker, I bring death to the beautiful dawn
With pillor, cold, and a legion of dying angels...

The water pours its embracing arms around the stone
Decay drips from the unquiet void where the ice forms, where life ends
The stone is by the crimson flood, swallowed
The red tide beyond the ebon wound, contorted
My sacrifice bids farewell in this river of memory... a wave to end all time
Red birds escape from my wounds and return as falling snow
To sweep the landscape; a wind haunted, wings without bodies
The snow, the bitter snowfall

[Faust:] "I, Johannes Faust, do call upon thee, Mephistopheles!"

[Faust:]
O growing Moon, didst thou but shine
A last time on this pain of mine
Behind this desk how oft have I
At midnight seen thee rising high
O'er book and paper I bend

The woeful silence and wind's reflection
Of your body's pale ode, an icy fortress of blood and ages
Sky fire above, ice below the hearth
Fall away from me to that citadel at the end of time
Where death sleeps and dreams of your buried pain
There has never been a silence like this before
There will never be an ode like this again

There are ghosts in every hallway
In every room, behind every door
Peering through every window intho the past
Holding onto us in the bitterness of the mire
Leaving a trace of themselves in the spaces in which they hide
...but there are no ghosts here...
There are gods in the wake of every flame
The fire that betroths the coldness of the void

Kiss me coldly and drain this life from my lips
Let the cold blood flow on it's own...
Kiss me coldly and fall away from the soul
Long forgotten...

From which of this oak shall I hang myself?
These ebon halls are always dark...
From which frostbitten bough shall I die?

When all is withered and torn
And all has perished and fallen
These great wooden doors shall remain closed. . .

When the heart is a grave filled with blood
And the soul is a cold and haunted shall of lost hope
When the voice of pride has been silenced
And dignity's fires are but cinders

Through vast valleys I wander
To the highest peaks
On pathways through a wild forgotten landscape
In search of God, in spite of man
'Til the lost forsaken endless...
This is where I choose to tread

Fall... So shall we fall into the nihil?

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

Give us our bread and bury our dead
And kneel to the cross on the wall
Whether burnt at the stake or drunk at the wake
Just kneel to the cross on the wall
We've original sin, but we might just get in
If we beg to the cross on the wall
It's rattle your neighbours and rattle your sabre
But kneel to that cross on the wall.

The texture of the soul is a liquid that casts a vermilion flood
From a wound carved as an oath; it fills the river bank a sanguine fog
These arms were meant to be lost! Hacked, severed and forgotten
The texture of time is a whisper that echoes across the flood
It's hymn resonates from tree to tree, through every sullen bough it sings
These boughs were said to be lost! Torn, unearthed and broken
Earth to flesh, flesh to wood, cast these limbs into the water
Flesh to wood, wood to stone, cast this stone into the water...

Aurora swims in the ether
Emerald fire scars the night sky
Amber streams from Sol
Are not unlike the waves of the sea
Nor the endless horizon of ice
Aurora swims in the ether
Emerald fire paints the twilight
Heidrun bleeds the golden nectar

Oh dismal mourning...
I open my weary eyes once again
My life has been left hollow and ashes have filled the gorge of my within
Last night I hoped and wished I'd die in my sleep but no catharsis was granted to
me
Will this pain ever pass?
The enchanting perfume of winter and the bleak, cold breath of her still haunts
me...

Oh dismal mourning...
I open my weary eyes once again
My life has been left hollow
and ashes have filled the gorge of my within
Last night I hoped and wished
I'd die in my sleep
but no catharsis was granted to me
Will this pain ever pass?

sample from the movie "Wicker Man":

Lord Summerisle: "Now, those children out there, they're jumping through the flames in the hope that the god of the fire will make them fruitful. Really, you can't blame them. After all, what girl would not prefer the child of a god to that of some acne-scarred artisan?"

Sergeant Howie: "And you encourage them in this?"

Lord Summerisle: "Actively! It's most important to teach new generation born of Summerisle be made aware that here the old gods aren't dead."

[Lord Summerisle:]
“And the ministers fled the island never to return. What my grandfather
started out of expediency, my father continued out of love. He brought me
up the same way: to reverence the music, and the drama, and the rituals of
the old gods; to love nature and to fear it, and to rely on it and to
appease it when necessary. He brought me up —”

[Sergeant Howie:]

Lord Summerisle: "And the ministers fled the island never to return. What my grandfather started out of expediency, my father continued out of love. He brought me up the same way: to reverence the music, and the drama, and the rituals of the old gods; to love nature and to fear it, and to rely on it and to appease it when necessary. He brought me up--"

Sergeant Howie: "He brought you up to be a pagan!"

Lord Summerisle: "A heathen, conceivably but not, I hope, an unenlightened one."

The firmament above the horizon of history
Heathen fires burn the ancestral night
Esoteric figures move across the
Arcane plateau with their
Symbols engraved in the sky

The astral plane and the lineage of the past
Reborn!

It was in this haunted place under a moonless cloak of ebony
I was drawn to the glow of a young spiritess weeping in the woods

The blackest ravens and ice-veiled boughs
Have spoken of you, goddess of these bleak woods
I yearn for your embrace, spiritess of the melancholia
Show me, again, your sweet face
Enchant me with your rich, cinder burnt ether

Blue textures cascade downward to the base of the monolith
Like brush strokes on a canvas of souls
Two arms reach out a cloak of silent nihil
Revenants untouched by the scythe
They are lost in the dark woods of time

Aloft in the landscape that you hail
I am the fog that seeps over here in the early hours

It was when I realized
That life has no meaning
No purpose, no quarry
...no answeres...

And all the dreary night
That had befallen across the land
I slipped into a revery

...Blood on my hands...

I walked in the shadows
'neth an azure midnight sky
I walked in the shadows
to abscond a life not my own
I walked in the night
this life I hate

You gonna kill? See I still have this.. this male aggression thing and I dunno if you're gonna kill me, i dunno enough's enough. Cos we were getting 20 gunshots that night and I couldn't figure out where they were coming from I went out everybody was shooting everybody, there's a lot of stress in that city, in Detroit as far as stopping crime if you wanna stop the crime you better talk to john nichols cos he knows what he's doin. Man you know how it feels, i feel worse tonight. That man, if I wanted his ass to get up and go to beverly and leave me alone he would do it. He's a father complex, I wish he was the father complex he's 68 years old & he'd still kick my ass even though I can squat for 2000 or so I don't have any fun at all. That's the least of problems, there ain't no fun out there killing people no. I've got a certain amount of common sense I know the precedence of morals, whether you believe it or not you've taught me a lot. Don't worry if you wanna screw off the past, I'm scared of you! Who do I go to, where do I go? Nothing that you knew what you were doing 'cept I've always known what I was doing doctor fratelli tells me gearld there's nothing wrong with you, you're so sane you're insane! I don't have no fun ever! You worked 30 years at chryslers well hell I got 15 years seeing your ether what are you talkin about? I don't have no fun at all. What, it's very fashionable to say that it's schizophrenia so I guess I'm unfashionable. Which would you rather: sleeping alot and staying on the subject or being more awa/sleeping in alot, and being awake, cos now I feel I've got a fairy friend out of childhood who got very anxious around people; and last eultide took the resolution "i don't like people" and my reply: this eultide is, mad chicken

I have arrived at the corridor of infinity; the great hall where the ages are kept
Behind ancient ash and primordial iron
The past is a mirror...aeons exist in a myriad cast
The vale before me; my own reflection

Another stands at the doorway of the maelstrom; a visionary to guide me through
Cracks reveal themselves in patterns of the distance
The past is a sphere

Where shade once was, the oak tree in a sprawl
Of death no longer writhing against the wind.
The people say: "I see now. It was tall."

And here and there slight nests of spring now find
Themselves dependent on a severed height.
The people say: "I see now. It was kind."

Like snowfall, you cry a silent storm
Your tears paint rivers on this oaken wall. . .
Amber nectar, misery ichor
. . .cascading in streams of hallowed form
For each stain, a forsaken shadow

You are the lugubrious spirit
Etched in the oak of wonder