1. |
Bloated Blackened Head
00:45
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"...he was nothing but a bloated, blackened head and a charred skeleton. he smelled burnt. he talked on and on..."
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2. |
Bilge - Black as Pitch
03:41
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In Rose hall
I Called her
Dust of a grave, feathers of hen
with Flint point
scratched out
The sigil, a sign, (et) invocarem...
For dry-mann (dru man)
Witch-fire sees
The dust of the dead is flame and sword
In my soul
My heart
Drank from the Cup of the Wrath of the Lord
Spirituum
Spirituum
I saw three signs
Red-orange on the candle wax
Bone in the candle's ash
I divine three signs
Red-orange in the cracking glass
Skull in the bone-white ash
Bone-white-flame
Closed up
Saddled up
Rode into the night with breath of lamb
Gave you
Black leather pouch
Bones (coins) and a nail, to grace your end
For men
Men like me
The dust of the dead is flame and sword
In my soul
In my heart
Drank from the Cup of the Wrath of the Lord
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3. |
Anythings - Rows of Six
04:30
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the thinnest crescent moon
i'd better get back soon
avoid main roads, as i've been told
that's where they like to fly
i sneak down alleyways
behind the preacher's place
a peek inside the cellar spies
the room where hell untwined
the servant's empty bed
the girls left her for dead
my torch blows out although i doubt
the winds have moved tonight
a stillness in the streets
no nightbirds call to me
a flicker in the forest and
i'm pulled towards my demise
my body shakes in fits
my zombie feet persist
their wicked skin and ghouls within
have got me by the wrist
i've seem them in my dreams
but now i'm not asleep
the fire glows and moonlight shows
the knives my flesh will meet
what wine is this?
metallic crimson bliss
we're born in rows of six
and roam amongst the sticks
your spectral sights
pay witness to our flights
surrender to your fright
a harvest moon delight
don't go and burn your friends
crush them 'til they confess
i would doubt you ever found the devils that you fuss about
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4. |
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it is a really strange time of the year
especially when you have been followed here
there are strange men in the middle of the night
and deranged children who just don't seem right
ghosts want to show you how they have died
they don't seem to be satisfied
until you shit yourself and cry
a pair of murdered drugstore workers grab your arms
they tell how maliciously they were harmed
and you must be quite, keep an easy scene
because you're only celebrating halloween
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5. |
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Holding your eyes
threads of both shoes untied
and I couldn't see
your face
Pearl white skies
the fabric folds in our lives
that I couldn't help
but waste
The camera you hold
lens is open blurry pose
of windswept wood
on shores
Light is exposed
curtained windows, doors closed
hiding the night
in day
And open to the thought of present danger
in the footsteps of a
quiet passing stranger
Calmly calculate the time and space
of odd and obtuse angles
that plot out the lines to your escape
When little branches whisper
hold on to the thought that keeps you safe
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6. |
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remember those ghosts
people, they've gone away
lovers, they've gone away
shifting, all flesh to gray
shifting, all flesh to graves
people, lovers, shifting
remember those ghosts
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