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The Harrow Weald

from DEAD OAK by AUTHORS

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lyrics

Here the dead shall never leave.

Ghosts swarm the land; I stand before a horde of tortured souls, what a dark and brooding atmosphere, and I hear dismal ghosts murmur incantations while the ancients peer back at this wanderer.

I detect artifice in their motives, but their humming is so soothing, they fade in and out of focus.
Their teeth remind me of death, rotting, decomposing; waiting to devour my flesh.
I’m drawn to the most obscene places, led into a swamp, guided by their unseen faces.
I’ve let mistakes claim my identity, there’s an altar dedicated to my lifelong iniquities.

The trees here have grown wise, and in a different age they would be kind.
Disease has claimed the lives of so many I can see -
Outlined against the sky, they waste and wither, pulling like veins, they draw me in to redeem me.
Lost in all that I could be, or ever was before the hands of the weald wielded me to the last day.

I thirst to drink up the secrets of the shadows, spew it up for the taste, I’ve been strung up by the gallows. Hundreds of animal corpses hanging, swinging in the breeze; I wanted to turn back, but there’s something here keeping me.

The sky seeps and bleeds black rain
Dim light peers through and wills the moon to reign.
Divide up the burl and the bone.
Describe this harrowed hell I call home.

Do they mock me as I walk by? Is black ink seeping from the crows dark eyes?
I see a horrifying image projected in the mist, but I’m pressing on; they’re guiding me - I could never resist.

I can’t resist.

I lie ill and supine; staring up into the gentle auroras lighting the night sky.
Imagine that I’m thrown to the void; cast into the blank canvas leaving my essence destroyed.

credits

from DEAD OAK, released January 1, 2015

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AUTHORS Indianapolis, Indiana

Our brand new EP "Dead Oak" is available now! Get it here!

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