<> page <Winds Saturate With Inhumane Longing> album page |
Besmeared The Tunic Of HonourBesmeared the Tunic of HonourWith blood of filthy crusaders Sword slit neat cut from throat to gut Their axes rape these woods no more Wounds in the memory of earth Deeds of the morally corrupt Legions of a spiritual plague Marching under flag of a failed man The woods have no concept of mercy Phantasmagoriac projections nocturnal Led the frail-minded into terror Panicking, sweating prayers Scaring their stallions astray Phantasmagoriac projections sepulchrally haunting Cast forth by the sorcery of trees Misantropical Painforest Does not know pity For unfriendly invaders Misantropical Painforest Weaving its dream of magery and deep-rooted might The pain you may feel in the deepness of its shadows Will tear your heart apart With the longing it conjures Longing for infinity And the abnormal purity of being The woods have no concept of pity The pain you may feel in your guts If your heart is insincere Is a sign of a forthcoming Misantropical disembowelment Besmeared the Tunic of Honour The strong-hearted legionary stands Laughter so grim As the life of the mentally disturbed Is absorbed by the soil Of the forest-land Honour for the ancient woods Untouched by the mankind's aberrations Honour for the spirit woods Untamed and ever-vibrant Honour for the purity of lands Where worries and haste are dethroned by depth Honour for the purity of heart Of those who adventure the forests With respect, awe and ruthless wits The woods have no time for compassion Human is animal among others And when the wolves howl at the midnight fullmoon The beasts of Honour Gather around the Centervortex Then new tales shall be told And heard... |