nine... nine long years. another fruitless harvest the soil, poisoned and barren, each season weaker than the last. we sraped away the worst of the contamination from the surface of the earth but it was never enough and it’s curse grows inside all of us. once dormant virus strains have awakened from the melting ice. mutated vermin and insect plagues strip th unprotected plains. the desert god has failed us all. the judgement was ash and smoke and lies. our new gods are old gods reborn. make fertile what is dead. hear us ingvaz. hear us ingvaz. time is the devourer of all things. sing for the harvest sing for the grain that will support us, will sustain us. sing for the saguine. nourish the terra. suckle the greedy soil. let it spurt. let it spray. feed the land. feed the land. kneel before the alter stone. the reaping hook is screaming for your blood. a moment to compose your thoughts. the expectation hanging as a silence falls amongst the throng. the hope that in this act of dying famine will be driven out. reward us with prosperity. with expert hand the blade runs quick and lacerates the sacrificial throat. and now you bleed. these fingers trace the spine. dig deep into the depths of the rib. bones cracking as they strain. bent double exposing the lungs. reach deep into the cage. take hold and then draw them both out. stretched wide accross the back. an eagle is ready for flight . let sorrow catch the wind. hands fashioned for the plough not for prayer. what value on a life. made welcome in the halls of the dead. let sorrow catch the wind. hands fashioned for the sword not for prayer. what value on a life. made welcome in the halls of the dead golden halls of death.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
