|
Black candles dance to an overture |
|
But I am drawn past their flickering lure |
|
To the breathing forest that surrounds the room |
|
Where the vigilant trees push out of the womb |
|
I sip the blood-red wine |
|
My thoughts weigh heavy with the burden of time |
|
From knowledge drunk from the fountain of life |
|
From chaos born out of love and the scythe |
|
The forest beckons with her nocturnal call |
|
To pull me close amid the baying of wolves |
|
Where the bindings of Christ are downtrodden with scorn |
|
In the dank, odiferous earth |
|
We embrace like two lovers at death |
|
A monument to the trapping of breath |
|
As restriction is bled from the veins in my neck |
|
To drop roses on my marbled breast |
|
I lust for the wind and the flurry of leaves |
|
And the perfume of flesh on the murderous breeze |
|
To learn from the dark and the voices between |
|
This is my will |
|
The forest whispers my name |
|
Again and again |
|
The forest whispers my name |
|
I walk the path |
|
To the land of the Dark Immortals |
|
Where the hungry ones will carry my soul |
|
As the wild hunt careers through the boughs |
|
Come to me, my pale enchantress |
|
In the moon of the woods we kiss |
|
Artemis be near me |
|
In the arms of the ancient oak |
|
Where daylight hangs by a lunar noose |
|
And the horned, hidden one is re-invoked |
|
Dark faerytales in Phallustein |
|
Symbols and signs to know us by |
|
Is re-invoked |
|
In Phallustein |
|
The principle of evil |
|
Evolution has been recalled |
|
Beneath the spread of a magickal aeon |
|
I stand enthralled |
|
In the whispering forest |
|
Yeah |
|
What a fucking crap way to spend an Easter weekend |
|
This is entitled |
