he Earth Aflame

"...And so it starts...
the beginning of a new turn in the cycle..."


2. Gods To The Godless

I have one Desire
let it be
a Pestilence upon your lands
a Plague upon all your houses
it is my wish
to Enslave all your people
The soil enriched with their Blood
To Burn your places of Worship
Our Gods shall become your Gods

All that lives on the vine is rotten
may your wines be foul
and your bread as the flesh of the dead
an ill wind to bring nought but decay
and the stench of your Slaughtered kin

The newborn, borne with fear in their eyes
and slavery in their limbs
as tools to build a new Empire
We are your cross to bear
Perhaps you shall be a martyred people
But as sure as the Night follows the Day
...a Dead People

"The desire to sweep away what is sacred and profane.
To enforce and embrace Tragedy...to imbed it deep
within the subconscious of generations..."


3. The Soul Must Sleep

"I have crossed the seas, I have left cities behind me,
and I have followed the source of rivers towards their
source or plunged into forests, always making for other
cities. I have had women, I have fought with men ; and
I could never turn back any more than a record can spin
in reverse. And all that was leading me where ?
To this very moment..."
[Jean Paul Sartre "Nausea"]

I sink below the waves
is this what I've been looking for ?
it seems
I've found someone to die for
someone to lie for...

I've drunk my fill of misery
it's time to move on
Restless and forgiving
it will lead me to the Grave

Let's leave for other worlds
leave the future behind
Here...my will has been spent
Let us depart
Before the night steals upon us
The Wretchedness of another day

"The wish, the want, to stay in the dream state,
can leaving this mortal coil be seen as a new
departure?, or a return to a permanent dream state ?
To feel to never want to wake. For here my will has
Been spent..."


4. The Burning Season

Bring the women
and children before me
Let us make rivers of their blood
Bleed for me...I wish it so
and streams shall meet such rivers
and seaward they shall flow

See the shoreline scattered
with their precious skulls
See the tide come in
as blood to meet their bone
A grotesque promise
Beneath a crimson sky...a seasons birth

We'll drown the newborn like unwanted dogs
and condemn them to their desperate gods
We'll take a needle, to the arm of the world
For it is our season

We'll burn the temples, of the righteous
Rend them as ashes, to the four winds
As ashes... to the four winds
The winds of a new season

"All is all for the taking, to Rise Phoenix like from the Ashes...
A twisted and revelatory dream of the new Aeon..."


5. Glorious Dawn

For those who may Rise
As a Phoenix from the Ashes
For those who may Devour
The Fruits of Knowledge
For those who coil
Serpent like, with cyclical Grace
...For those as Wolves among Sheep
who Sharpen their Teeth
for the last Supper

For those who are the Rock
Upon which our Fortress built
For those who are the Anvil
Upon which our will is Forged

For those whose Deeds
shall become Song
and for those whose Eyes
Shall light up the heavens
With a single Fiery Glance
This ....is your season

"Of cyclical rebirth and regeneration...the serpent
who eats his own tail. Of the Word, the Mind, and
the Will that makes Flesh. This is our Season..."


6. The Cruel Sea



7. Children Of The Harvest

Seems we are to live our final days
Far from the dwellings of men
As flowing tides and shifting sands
Far from the bitter gaze of soul less man

In sorrow we fly from our loved ones
To die in the waters of the wild
My brethren can seek no shelter beneath these wings
Until dead men rise from their graves

How sad it is for me to see
My fathers fallen halls
Here once prideful men clashed as Gods
With veins aflame and hearts of thunder

Yet my fathers are long since dead and gone
And I with heart so heavy
And limbs so weary
It seems our sun is all but dimmed

And we your children have
Wandered for years
And felt the cruel blast of freezing winds
But the harshest blow of all to come...

To return at last to an empty home

"Adapted and altered from the Irish folklore tale
of the Children of Lir, turned to swans and condemned
to roam for 300 years before returning home...to an empty
home. An interesting spine for an allegorical tale. One of
displacement, disenchantment and alienation...from this world
and its ways. Longing for another Age...
another time, another place..."