1. |
A Night-Piece On Death
07:36
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We come upon a place of graves,
Whose wall the silent water laves.
That steeple guides thy doubtful sight
Among the livid gleams of night.
Think now, as softly-sad you tread
Above the venerable dead,
Time was, like thee they life possessed,
And time shall be, that thou shalt rest.
The marble tombs that rise on high,
Whose dead in vaulted arches lie,
Whose pillars swell with sculptured stones,
Arms, angels, epitaphs and bones,
These (all the poor remains of state)
Adorn the rich, or praise the great;
Who, while on earth in fame they live,
Are senseless of the fame they give.
And while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades,
The bursting earth unveils the shades!
All slow and wan, and wrapped with shrouds,
They rise in visionary crowds,
Now comes a peal of hollow groans,
Thus speaking from among the bones.
And all with sober accent cry:
"Think, mortal, what it is to die."
"When men my scythe and darts supply,
How great a King of Fears am I!
They view me like the last of things:
They make, and then they dread, my stings.
For if you less provoked your fears,
No more my spectral form appears.
Death's but a path that must be trod,
If man would ever pass to God."
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2. |
Into The Wicker Man
05:16
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Come one, come all to this marvelous show
The dusk is upon us, the embers aglow
The effigy stands with his head in the sky
And into his belly the thieves and the liars, go
Into the wicker man
The landlord who kicks children out on the street
Then glut themselves fat as society bleeds
All those who would turn away sea-stricken ships
Forgetting their forebears sailed to these same cliffs
The preacher who uses his God as a tool
To slander and stir up the hatred of fools
And every last man who would play by the rules
In a land where the laws are written to be cruel, throw them
Into the wicker man
Children of the thatcher all bound up in rope
May ran up the maypole, her head at the top
John's son with his straw hair, all mirrors and smoke
We wrapped him in burlap to scare off the crows
For they talk of a country they sell by the pound
Carved up for the dollar, they pocket the crowns
But forget the old ways in their gluttonous greed
And grow tall as weeds in these fields of green, throw them
Into the wicker man
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3. |
Dark Tidings
06:43
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One for sorrow, two for mirth
Three for marriage, four for birth
Five for silver, six for gold
Seven secrets never told
In fertile fields in ages yore
Magpie, magpie we adore
Feast on pest and feast on rat
Clear the dead out from our land
And then they stabbed you in the back
Caught your kind in snare and trap
Killed your children in their nests
For the fear of stolen eggs
One for sorrow, two for joy
Three for murder, four for blood,
Five for mourning, six in wake,
Seven, vengeance we shall take
Mobs of mourners in the sky,
Clouds of livid black and white
Stain games-keeper's house with red
Children's eyes plucked from their heads
Eight for heaven, nine for hell
Ten for the wrath of the devil himself
Eleven for a debt well paid
Twelve mock traitors in their grave
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Tomistoma Stoke On Trent, UK
Reptilian piano-led doom from the darkest heart of Stoke-on-Trent, England.
www.facebook.com/Tomistoma-160865648118198
New EP, "Cathedral City", out 07/09/2023.
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