...It was not long ago when I had fallen from this mortal world,
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lost in dream flight to pierce the horizon as a bird...
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Is this life the pillor I must bear?
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To grow in this wretched world?
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...With hate each day I burn...
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The birds above, they ride the winds
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And from each piercing talon dangles a soul
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The stone awaits my fall
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Upon a grave I dug myself
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The birds sing their requiems
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Please lend me your wisdom to fly above the heavens,
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Across seas of gold, to my land of frostbitten, ageless night
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Let me dig my own grave
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Let me, oh precious noose of mine
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You are my mother, whose womb around my neck
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Grants me a world of cold nihility
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An endless winter night
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A bitter, black frozen hell
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For me
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Forever!
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Is this the pillor I must bear?
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To die on this fucking world?
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...With hate I die and burn...
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The birds above, they caress the winds
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They lend me the wisdom to fly...
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[Written by J. Haughm ('97)]
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Of Stone, Wind And Pillor
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| Agalloch |
