We’ve broken our promise…
Buried again in haste,
one more relic of our past
that we once rejoiced to
reap from our hills
Watch horrified as our branches die
twisting in inhuman shapes,
brittle and breaking, they turn to dust in hand
No men fertile are they I’ve found
who tend to the oaks, the ashes and thorns,
their seeds left withered and dry
Borne away
from your velvet embrace
unto darkness and decay
(neither legend nor destined
to live in the hearts of men)
It was but yesteryear
solar brilliance seared our hearts
as crested its course over
green hollows’ grace
Feel of the soil,
bury your hands,
spit your curse on
the idols foul
The age of our youth has passed,
such as ne’er to come again
Borne away
from your velvet embrace
unto darkness and decay
(neither legend nor destined
to live in the hearts of men)
Dying days,
though your lights grow e’er more dim,
light the path unto my grave
Look you upon the remnants past,
those same as we once loved:
they’re brittle now, and crumble to touch,
and scatter like ash in the wind
Feel of the soil,
bury your hands,
spit your curse on
the idols foul
If given the chance
to return to the eve
of your retreat,
I’d never look back
The age of our youth has passed
such as ne’er to come again,
so turn your face to the mirror,
remember: this is ours to shoulder now
This is the sound
of our culture dying
Borne away
from your velvet embrace
unto darkness and decay
(neither legend nor destined
to live in the hearts of men)
Dying days,
though your lights grow e’er more dim,
light the path unto my grave…
(abandoned,
forgotten)
Unto our graves…