Post by Heretic on Apr 14, 2006 15:05:33 GMT -5
Just something I wrote a little while ago.
Winter draws breath in the land of death
And screams out her own lungs
The cadaverous trees are brought to their knees
While they beckon to the young
A procession of old goes by in the cold
And into the church they went
The walls of this shrine mock the divine
The labour of lives spent
The choir’s dark pews the afflicted use
To sing their hymns of hell
A shade heaves on a rope and extinguishes hope
With the tolling of the bell
The organ’s low groans mirror the moans
Of the corpse that plays them well
The arrogant kneel at their pews of steel
And pray at the final knell
A eulogy is said to dishonour the dead
That are paraded by in their coffins
While the priest of woe looks down below
The women’s chorus does soften
At the back of the church where the hopeless search
The Unholy salute their friends
They devour their gall and thus honour them all
That met their horrific ends
In the cathedral of lies the pulpit has eyes
They search but do not find
Their gaze like a blaze from the End of Days
Will strike the weak ones blind
This dark funeral starts at the taking of hearts
And the names of the damned are read
What the priest intones is echoed in bones
That once were garbed in red
His voice is decayed from vocal chords frayed
His voice is heavy with loss
His robe is a shroud of ragged cloud
And he wears a leaden cross
Says he,
“We accepted this noose to be our excuse
And our philosophy frayed at the ends
On this blackest of nights that holds no light
Which on earth, the moon normally lends
Our souls will sigh when they draw nigh
These newcomers to the grave
For they lost their chance to folly’s lance
And spurned Christ who could save.”
Winter draws breath in the land of death
And screams out her own lungs
The cadaverous trees are brought to their knees
While they beckon to the young
A procession of old goes by in the cold
And into the church they went
The walls of this shrine mock the divine
The labour of lives spent
The choir’s dark pews the afflicted use
To sing their hymns of hell
A shade heaves on a rope and extinguishes hope
With the tolling of the bell
The organ’s low groans mirror the moans
Of the corpse that plays them well
The arrogant kneel at their pews of steel
And pray at the final knell
A eulogy is said to dishonour the dead
That are paraded by in their coffins
While the priest of woe looks down below
The women’s chorus does soften
At the back of the church where the hopeless search
The Unholy salute their friends
They devour their gall and thus honour them all
That met their horrific ends
In the cathedral of lies the pulpit has eyes
They search but do not find
Their gaze like a blaze from the End of Days
Will strike the weak ones blind
This dark funeral starts at the taking of hearts
And the names of the damned are read
What the priest intones is echoed in bones
That once were garbed in red
His voice is decayed from vocal chords frayed
His voice is heavy with loss
His robe is a shroud of ragged cloud
And he wears a leaden cross
Says he,
“We accepted this noose to be our excuse
And our philosophy frayed at the ends
On this blackest of nights that holds no light
Which on earth, the moon normally lends
Our souls will sigh when they draw nigh
These newcomers to the grave
For they lost their chance to folly’s lance
And spurned Christ who could save.”
