All lyrics were written over several years to fit the themes related to the albums.
Of Ash And Ember
The Closing Of A Sinistral Summer
Ominous Echoes winded down old cobbled streets, as invisible shadows stalking in a chill breeze.
The bellowing toll of the old village bell, waking weary gluttonous maggots stirring from their sleep.
With curved and sharpened blades, toiling in the heat. The men woman and children, swaying in hazy fields of maize, rye and wheat.
A raven, thick of neck and long of beak. Crouching on withered branch with wilted leaf. Spying that gelatinous eye newly plucked from the sheep.
Where The Weeds Entwine To Feed Those Divine
And to the orchards headed to the east, arms branched low, straining with unease. Where large bulbous apples still hung, growing for the feast.
And as summer wanes so well the fiddler plays, with long mournful strokes of his bow. A crescendo of notes floating from field to sow.
For now the sow shall graze, from where it was raised. So soon to be slain.
From jugular to cuff it shall be cut, to appease those from underfoot. Where the weeds entwine to feed those divine and with ravenous greed they will feed though never to be pleased.
Of Ash And Ember
Cast from the heavens and through frozen tundra was where they fell.
Fashioned from flame, was how they became.
For under the surface is where they dwell, if they have not had their fill. Take heed, for they will not wish us well.
Up from their cavernous womb is where they will crawl, to claw at the earthen wall.
To sprout from parched and fetid grass. Sprawled upon the floor, tangled limbs of ashen matte. Great wings they will unfurl, bare and black. The texture of a cavern bat. Tunneled with veins of crimson flame.
Harvest Of Insidious Abundance
Autumn arrived fast, the berries ripened at last. A bountiful harvest, of red, purple and black.
Rust tipped leaves still clung to the trees, curled from the summer heat. Falling, when coaxed in a breeze.
Soon to carpet the floor and crunch underneath.
A stack of apples, juices running from their cores. Bubbling upon the orchard floor. Mice and rat squabbling to the top,
for the most abundant apple of the lot. The one thriving in rot.
Intoxicated they drop to the floor, drunkenly Blinded to the feral form. Stalking in predatory awe.
Lure Of The Tainted Fungi
One at dusk on the eve, is all you need. Fresh young fungi, newly plucked near the stream.
Fly into the sky, to flee with your mind. Or become one with your soul, to travel realms unknown.
Open no doors where the stars don’t align, towards the place where the sun no longer shines.
Where, the weeds entwine.
Through Rural Domains Towards Astral Plains
Through flowering meadows of orange and yellow my spirit fled. Drawn to a turbulent vortex beckoning up ahead.
Over towering peaks of spruce and pine, towards a great Maelstrom turning in the sky.
A formless void and deafening roar. A taunting of voices that chuckled within it’s celestial maw.
The turning of the chaos tide, dragged my spirit inside. Trawling through aeons of time, I had no where to hide. Clammy hands grasped at my incandescent form and dragged my spirit inside.
Towards the frozen tundra that never thawed.
A Nexion Into The Dark Ages
Dark as soot turned the sky, black and dense as smoke rising from a stout raging fire. And up through bruised, turbulent clouds flocked the birds.
When the crazed flagellants unite, to wield cruel and barbed chains. To set braziers alight and to unleash their might. With taut and taloned fists they set sail towards the celestial mists.
In Reverence To The Wolf
Emperors Of lycanthropic heathenry
Devoid of moral constraint, it is the primitive we embrace. Bearing a knowledge rare ancient and arcane, it was the beast we became.
Though ritual, philosophy and thought where the lunar orb shone forth. To bathe upon the crumbling altars of the north was where we’d transform. Sinews of muscle and bone malform to renew our supernatural form and shed armour of silver, jade and gold.
Once born to reign. Now fashioned to enslave. To return to our halls with heads raised upon stakes. Gone all noble grace.
In Reverence To the Wolf
For centuries we watched in the vast mountains aloft, of those enshrouded by fog, to carve the path long forgot.
To see them weave between the trees, with only their masters to appease. The feared wolfen brethren, steeped in superstition, revered in Germanic tradition.
Their senses alight, superior in sight. No prey unfound, crimson to soon paint the ground.
To haunt teutonic lands unbound, where great cathedrals stand their ground. Their gothic spires piercing the cloud, where the dark gods peer down.
Upon Turbulent Skies The Valkyries Ride
Upon great wolfen mounts they ride. With svelte and bloodied daggers harnessed by their sides. Their long blond hair trailing from behind, the formidable valkyries taking to the sky.
Black wolves with brazen eyes, bounding towards the sounds of battle cry. To feed upon the bodies of warriors left to die, and free cursed souls to join the frenzy in the sky.
A cacaphony of noise and crackling storms. The hunt to mark the beginning of a new dawn.
No life shall be spared, when the wolfskins awaken those lying from beneath their graves and heathen lands once again cleansed.
Grandeur Of The Hunted
We watched in awe to hear its magnificent roar. Puffs of vapour escaping both nostril and maw. How great its curved antlers upon our walls. Its rustic skin to carpet the floors of our ebony halls.
How fit for a feast would be such a beast, to feed our heathen king and queen.
Blood red shall spill the wine and to taste divine.
With a steady hand poised and braced, arrow straining in wait. Unseen and unheard, no bird song calling in mirth. Darkness to soon cloak the earth.
In Teutonic Rage Our Dark Kingdoms Shall Reign
Driven forward in feral rage. Through thick muddied waters we wade, towards the cast of shadows beyond the glade.
Our rune encrusted blades glowing ablaze, thirsting for the blood of peasants destined for the grave.
We look to the sky, blanketed by night. And watch winged armoured horses fly. Flogged by wolfish warriors brazen in their might, gliding towards where the benighted lightning strikes.
Hovels set alight, the rivers run crimson bright. We shall savour this night .
Ancestral Esoteric Lands
Upon monoliths of barren rock. Our baroque castles stand on top, sculptured from the hands of our ancient gods, where the lycanthropes now lodge.
Nocturnal lore, permeating the walls of our feudual halls.
Ruling the night, shapeshifters on the edge of life.
Our royal battle standard tainted, by the darkness in which we thrive.
On starless nights they shall fly high. Esoteric by design. Patterns woven in honour of our ancestral lands.
All lyrics written by Meresburg 2022-2024.
Meresburg 