1. |
Disappeared
03:41
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Someone approached me with a dagger as I slept. I saw the shadow in the arches.
Stalking their prey like rodents, the bloody chapel is wroth with treacherous Neills.
Mercenaries, who fought for me, feast upon the fruit of your victories,
and keep the keys to Leap forever in your possession.
Dragged by the hair to the oubliette.
I cannot call out because my throat is slit.
Descending, as fumes rise from the black pit.
Restrained, hands bound, shin bones split.
From the dark, come forth the slaves.
The hunger and the black bones surround,
mounds of chaotic screams, and withered shells of death.
The shadows became arched bare bones, nothing of flesh for salvage.
Hunger, delirium, not a drop of blood to drink.
Dark room of my destiny.
Dying cries of forgotten relics ring
through the centuries.
This is a place of ancient betrayal,
broken alliances and blood soaked stone surrounds.
Eternal chamber,
a dungeon of nothing with the scent of ancient death.
Delusion of never ending night.
Banished to the valley of the black hearts.
I hunt the arched back beasts.
No bones to gnaw or blood to drink.
What use for the human eye in this place when a constant black surrounds. Death is near. Starvation's delusion whispers to me.
I pull the last sliver from the socket.
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2. |
Hangwoman
04:37
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Son you have left my harsh discipline and hatred.
Now I wait for him, I struggle for centuries.
In our hunger we suffered, madness had taken me.
My mind is lost.
Survival is my existence, and tonight I wait for weary travellers.
My hovel is harsh, and yet they come to me for shelter.
In our hunger we suffered, darkness had taken me.
My mind is lost.
I watch them hang,
One by one, for decades I have sown,
years of writhing death.
And I watch them hang,
as a last foul breath of life is drawn.
Years of placid death.
So I wait with withered hands.
Lust of death grows stronger through the years.
Was him that I killed to be here?
So I wait with withered hands.
My lust grows stronger in years of rabid writhing death.
Life hangs by my hand as they suspend.
Through the door they descend.
I savour the terror.
Flogs rip and tear the flesh.
My lust grows stronger with every crack.
Now I am in power.
My wait is over.
Son you have left, my harsh discipline and hatred.
Now I wait for him, I struggle for centuries.
In our hunger we suffered, darkness had taken me.
My mind is lost.
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3. |
Saor sa hAnbháis
10:55
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Cuartú saoirse sa hanbháis.
Ag fánaíocht san ólacháin,
m'intinn ag cúrsach.
Glaoch ón ngealach,
agus cuartú an talamh.
Glaoch ón uaigh,
agus cuartú an talamh.
An é ón talamh a soláthraíonn sé,
agus ólaim a neachtar.
Glaoch ón uaigh,
cuardaím anagarr.
Is trial é, an fanacht.
An glaoch ón uaigh,
cuartú an talamh.
Ón talamh a hsoláthraíonn sé,
agus ólaim a neachtar.
Leanaim ar aghaidh ar bhruach na habhann,
na driseacha tuibh agus dealgach.
Ag lámhacán tré'n scrobarnach.
Ag streacadh mo chreacann.
Ón talamh a soláthraíonn sé,
agus ólaim a neachtar.
Cuartú saoirse sa hanbháis.
Ag fánaíocht san ólacháin,
m'intinn ag cúrsach.
Agus ólaim mé a neachtar.
Cloisim glaoch an tsreangán.
Cuirim ar an stil.
An tSeachmallach. Póiteach.
Ólaim mé a neachtar.
Cloisim glaoch an tsreangán.
Cuirim ar an stil.
Éist leis an crá aosta,
i dtuama an dríodar,
an áit a thógaim mo stíl.
Fanaim anseo i mo lusca.
I mo sheasamh ag gáire as mo mheabhair.
Éist leis an crá aosta.
Is físidhe mé ar an talamh seo.
Tá leathanta imithe,
Crochfaidh mé ón na rachtaí.
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English Translation:
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Seeking freedom in violent death.
Drunken roaming, my mind wanders.
A call from the moon,
a seeking of the earth.
A call from the grave,
a seeking of the earth.
From the earth it's fermented,
and I drink its nectar.
I seek the corrupted substance.
It's a trial, this wait.
The call from the grave,
A seeking of the earth.
I continue along the river bank.
With briars, thick and sharp.
I crawl through the undergrowth,
tearing my flesh.
From the earth it's fermented
and I drink its nectar.
Seeking freedom in a violent death.
Drunken roaming, my mind wanders.
And I drink the grounds nectar.
I hear the call from the twine.
I put it on the stil.
A wanderer, given to poitin.
I drink the grounds nectar.
I hear the call from the twine.
I put it on the stil.
Listen to the ancient torment
in the tomb of the dregs,
where I build my stil,
I'll stay here in my crypt.
Standing in hysterical laughter.
Listen to the ancient torment.
I am a man of knowledge on this earth.
Days have passed.
I'll hang from the rafters.
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