1. |
This Land Of Lorn
02:11
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(Instrumental)
Chapter 1
(entering the pagan earth)
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2. |
Cloudwalker
04:40
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Chapter 2
(Cursed land in absence of rain. The myth of the first redeemer, the dreamer who walks on the clouds)
Autumn dusk, this pagan earth bearing the mark of an elder sin.
Cursed skies, barren sites, darkened shrine, candle of burning doom.
(Chorus)
Pagan lord almighty father, ruler of the skies.
Ancient dreamer of the earth, glorious from birth.
You unfold the deeds of fall, roar above us all.
Thunder dancing in your hand, now wash away the land.
Autumn dusk, these silent seas bearing the mark of forgotten storms.
Cursed skies, barren sites, darkened shrine, candle of burning doom.
Suffering this curse for too long, souls went black, never to forget our ways of old, honouring the ones below, anticipating the redeemer.
(Repeat chorus)
Cloudwalker!
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3. |
Of Waves And Stars
02:05
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Chapter 3
(The lunatic daughter chanting the apocryphal rites)
As fall returns, it sings of rain's birth.
That is the time of day when, surrounded by mist, her silken knees touch the wet sand.
Tears of joy for the love of dusk, dancing words above the shoreline.
Forgotten words of waves and stars.
Who else could chant the hymns of gods in such grace?
Who else could defy death it self for the secrets of the ages?
Who, but the lunatic daughter of The woods..
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4. |
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Chapter 4
(The last ritual candle is dying. Awaken now the ancient forces of demons)
"A darkness of old" whispered the wind..
"Demon-dark"
Their eyes glowing for they never before have heard such poetry.
Terrible art and apocryphal, yet devilish seductive.
So we are the chosen ones, with occult names dressed in riddles and prophecies of hell
-or cursed sons of angels?
And if we would taste of our own flesh, would pain be meaningless?
Would instincts be pure?
"A darkness of old" whispered the wind..
"Demon-dark"
Eyes glowing in the rain
as they look back for one last time, at the blue-shining life that ends, like the roar of a dead empire.
"From now on, only deeds of darkness".
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5. |
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(Instrumental)
Chapter 5
(seeking shelter into the deep woods of Fairfolk)
Leaves are falling slowly from elder trees,
winds are singing gently stories and dreams,
for this time of dusk bears sadness of lorn,
in this ancient forest magic is born.
Behold this land of wonders drifting in dreams,
but hide before this autumn dark is complete.
The elves around this place are wicked and mean,
alas, their deeds no human eye must ever see.
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