Woe of Tyrants все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Crashing of thunder, considering the light of the moon. Displaying barren pastures, the reach of my sight is weak. Gathering the pieces, the remains from the flood. Seeking shelter in the shadow of the rising sun. With dawn comes a new race, a race for shelter. A place to hide from the rays of truth that stripe my skin. Go... Placing of hope in the last setting star, a tree providing shade. Rotten fruit extends temptation grand, limb by limb I ascend. My joints grow weary, I work to please the vacant crevice of my mind. There is work to be done tonight, the knowledge that comes with fear, the fallacy, stating that the time has come. A body burning. Gnashing teeth removing excess flesh in bulk, as the fruit is poisoned. I feel it hardening in my veins, calloused, crystallizing blood. Turns to tar, slowing down my heart, the steady rhythm fading. The crack of timber underneath, falling from the top of this diseased tree. Deeper, deeper towards the dirt, the branches scratching and bruising my skin. But they would say this inspiration is the key. There’s a burn in every heart. The brazen forces invading the fortress keep reduce the odds and leave the children to weep. This drop of blood smears the world, restores to beating the hearts once stone. The birth of spring defeats the cold, devouring autumn’s fall. But they would say this inspiration is the key. There’s a burn in every heart. The brazen forces invading the fortress keep reduce the odds and leave the children to weep. This drop of blood smears the world, restores to beating the hearts once stone. The birth of spring defeats the cold, devouring autumn’s fall.

The darkness will not subside.
Hands are reaching at the
footsteps stumbling in the night.
The stars can light the way,
countless eyes ablaze. A lamp
shining truth. In a corner
roaches claim the kingdom, they
scatter in the light. With cloak

There is no foothold here in these miry depths; clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone. Frantic laughter bubbling throughout. Voice strained from screaming, parched and shrill. With each breath comes an influx of my waste. Beasts sovereign; circling, searching for their feast. Their mouths foaming, sensing blood in the dirty water. It’s the primal craving which prevails disgust. But how did I get here? The first of oh so many questions. Delayed are the angel’s melodies, ensnared in this bog. But this place is familiar. The sites, the sounds, the face of the beast. Breathing mirrors reflecting me, I share in their needs. The absence of love, abundance of filth. Left to consider the familiarity of my despair. Deprived innocence, I am deserving of this place. Entitlement, I have what I’ve chosen. The virgin weeping, blackened eyes dripping contempt. Actions and disgraces, I have many faces here. The frowning masks of the tragedy, many faces here.... With one final glare my head slips under the mud. I reach, still finding nothing which I can grab to reach the surface again. Dimming into dark is the heart that fades away, I sink into the darkest deep. Finally I give in to the hands touch, embracing what they say. I submit to the nightmare of the mire, finding solace in the choice to fall into breathing depths...depths...depths.... There is no foothold here in these miry depths; clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone. Frantic laughter bubbling throughout. Voice strained from screaming, parched and shrill.

Pushing forth, chasing fantasies that justify euphoric dreams. Seeking better than I have ever seen. The pristine city in the crystal sea where the faultless dwell. There is a storm descending, in a not so perfect world, not so perfect after all. There is a storm descending, in a not so perfect world, not so perfect after all. Here they are! People screaming as the towers crumble down. Romance stifling is the storm. Lightning overhead displaying what we’ll never control. Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down? Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down? With need to suffer, the need for despair to break down the common bond between the man and this ancient earth. The search for our own perfect son. Lightning strikes the clock at the center of the town just as the Isle of Atlas invaded. With each strike the elders wince, their faults exposed to a swarm of angry nomads. So the scholars moved to say, that this city can’t fall... The scholars moved to say, that this city can’t fall into hell.... If this was the perfect land, the depravity I’ve viewed within can’t bridge the gap to justify my actions in this journey. A storm reveals the hell that dwells within a faulted pretense. Hearing from the heart... Hearing from the heart of a broken perfect man, claiming the buildings were constructed on the sand. And the land was never fertile, the walkways never gold, his eyes slipping away. Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down? Is this the best that they have found? Perfection within the walls that crumbled down?

But my, the pearls still shine; ignited by the fiery eyes. My God, I can’t bare it, let me roll amidst this mud, so far I’ve found the answer in this pen, don’t take it away! I think it’s right, it feels right, just let me stay content. I can’t see the truth, it’s just too bright. I’ll grant the anarchy is raging in this sty I call my home, and the flies that squeal around me direct which way I’ll go, but this is not enough to cause me to stop and think of the world. All of the creatures, outside the walls, running so free and clear. With no cage to keep them in check. The food which they eat is growing from seeds, which come from the branches just overhead. The trees which are showered with light and rain, abundantly from above. I’ll consume almost anything I see, while avoiding the pearls as they’re way too shiny to eat. I’ll stick to the mud where I can stand, for as long as I can. The storm is rising, my feats are dying in a whirlwind of empty, filthy lies. Lies! Day is gone, the moon is not giving me enough to see. I wander aimlessly across the soil, until the light hits my feet. And the creatures running free with pearls around their neck they see... It’s in the darkest part of life, that I can recognize the need for the light of the night to be in me

Revolving doors, the words unspoken. The walls alive, their stories ringing litmus true. Valor of the soldier questioned in a time of war. Now the jury leaves, expressing righteous dignity, scratching planks within their eyes. Without even a moment their deliberation ends, a momentary judgment of a sick and dying man. Escaping through an iron door, the boulders coming faster now. The healing hands of saints surrender, as they see the head that glows disdain. The looks of disappointment stain the once opaque within these walls. They bring the stones to shatter the scenes, making flaccid sculptures form. Mere fragments remain. The gospel’s wondrous beauty now in pieces on the floor with the demons running rampant in the eyes of unforgiving sons. Without hesitation there is need for retreat, the walls are crumbling down. When they see me leave, they soak the bridge in gasoline, and we descend together.

Heeding the call of my resilient foe, absorbing the sound of the melodies silent. All of my dreams turning scarlet, my screams startling allies in the pale of the moon. I’m contemplating what I’ve seen; the bright of the morning that survived the night. Dreams remembered in fragments. Shards of glass reflect...shards of glass reflecting the pale of the moon. In the pale of the moon, I dance amongst damned. This dance of the dead, the melodies guiding me, playing unheard, dead in the pale of the suffering moon. With this revelation, I feel even more at the brink of risk. These things in the darkness that I cannot see nor resist. Dancing with fire, resting in the ash that coats my skin. Brings me to life again. Awaken screaming in the darkest of the night. The fire heats the sky, lifting me into a conscious nightmare. Revealing that the windows still in tact, the murals not defiled, the window to the soul has not been broken. Warmth outstanding candlelight, the flicker on the wall; a better sense of the apathy in the corner of the room. The door creaks, barely heard as I shiver in my skin. The candle dancing violent now as if it somehow has heard. This is vengeance, this is beauty somehow defiled. This is the culmination of...their desire to enter me. What I’ve seen, how quickly white fades to gray within what fathers the wiles of the devil. A farce of this dark memory, the wiles of the devil, the wiles of the devil. Heeding the call, now I’m a flurry spinning about the room. The glass cutting into my feet as I embrace the fall into the floor. Descend, remember, the sound of the whisper in your ear...your ear. Now I’m a flurry spinning about the room. The glass cutting into my feet. As I embrace the fall it crumbles away. Descend, remember, the sound of the whisper in your ear. I stare at the walls alive, moving about to a beat I must resist. Refusing every advance, slipping hopeful back to sleep. My eyes shut, I sense the cold, with whispers in my ear.

Singing woe to me and my crimson needs,
The shallow waters warm quickly in the sun.
What a process to undivine.
The season that refuses life...
In the depths of the furthest reach
There's a hall to be found where the portraits scream.
Each reflecting the memory of a soul I've laid to waste.
A red lantern sparks a fire towards a

An open eye, awakened cold on a path of ruin that once was gold. Black mountains blocking the sun. Enveloped in decay what’s devoid of life, the land is barren stone. Tonight, the shadows are screaming discourse. But you can see it in the eyes, the onyx stones. I cannot fail, and embrace the world I aimed to change. A garden looms ahead of rocky soil, with spirits swirling in a dance. There is inherant mystery in a stone unturned. Serpents feign their sleeping, covered. The sound of weeping grants relief from the sting, a method ringing. Hesitation in engaging pursuit. The eye glows red, the action ensues. Coated in mold, lungs resonate the sounds of the mire. Behold the transformation alive behind these eyes. In the moment there’s a time for reflection, to bathe in the pressing instants conviction. I’ve come to terms with the very real change within the tombs, the climate anew. Coated in mold, lungs resonate the sounds of the mire. Behold the transformation alive behind these eyes. [guitar solo] There’s ash within the rain, falling with autumn tears. The lanterns of the night burning sulfur eyes, halting glaciers freeze. The embers dance the stars, fusing of worlds... worlds once apart. An open eye, awakened cold on a path of ruin that once was gold. Black mountains blocking the sun. Enveloped in decay what’s devoid of life, the land is barren stone. Tonight, the shadows are screaming discourse. But you can see it in the eyes, the onyx stones. I cannot fail, and embrace the world I aimed to change. A garden looms ahead of rocky soil, with spirits swirling in a dance. There is inherant mystery in a stone unturned. Serpents feign their sleeping, covered. In the somber dusk revealed is the shadow’s scheme, silencing reason.