The earth shook herself awake, fire and stone bit her chains of fetid reason like a sapling from decay, she will feed on your fall.
Her freedom, you named it green treason you bastards with your bruised flag. I'd like to cut out your tongues spangle fifty barbs across your face.
I am estranged, far from the ocean stunted ribcage trees, thorned husks like death no corpse-reek, it smells of bone a wraithlike land, crumbling tomb.
I thirst for the rain, dew on needles and leaf Lady Bogachiel, oh maiden of mist but dust fills my eyes, spines in my mouth to speak of home, that is green treason.
I hid the ink on my skin, a glacier lily upon each palm Twin Sisters tattooed down my spine, Rainier's peaks upon my arm but when I spoke of green treason you bound me with scorching desert rope forced iron down my throat now I dream of the moss-stains beneath my feet.
You can never keep me from my home Lady Bogachiel sings of your doom the rain has always brought the end of ruin heed, my lady calls me with her fog-song, I must return.
Deep in the vale stirs my lady's primal fire green crescent moons beneath the black star-shine ebon as the Morrígu's gaze I stare into my lady's sunless face the trail beyond the dying sun.
My mother, the light shed from a raven's wing father, the vapor of its eyes. From my stepping feet, rising mist and fallen rain my bird skulls, burning incense, exhale cloud. The sun through wet veils, my hazel-horned lover he runs deep in my moss and loam, my sunken river. Molten starlight in the ground, pale beards drape from trees traps of spider web and wind-woven moss ensnare me.
Deep in the vale stirs my lady's primal fire green crescent moons beneath the black star-shine ebon as the Morrígu's gaze.
I am your vale, breast dark as the black of crow-eyes I am your vale, fog cold upon your brow. Frozen ferns and night fog are my winter incense drink it deep, drink it deep, in cold arms you sleep. I drape you in moss-woven blankets to keep you warm molten starlight thaws the ground, we are home.
Deep in the vale stirs my lady's primal fire green crescent moons beneath the black star-shine ebon as the Morrígu's gaze I stare into my lady's face we walk the path of blades, the trail beyond the dying sun.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
