Sorg Uten Tårer


"She smiles in her moonkissed eyes"

Grave Songs_cover_art

Grave Songs

2008

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(Size: 102MB , Includes lyrics text file and mp3 files)

I will never be away I will be watching you from the grave With a sword thrust through my heart Not alive, not quite dead I will be waiting for the one Who will pull this blade from my chest I will kill you with your weapon In death, you will look your best Watch for my soiled footprints The scent of the rot is my courier Freeze in fear as my sword glints Your legs must have never felt heavier Don't faint as the blade bits deeper Learn to enjoy a bit, nothing feels sweeter To lift the curse your love has cast Lie in my grave with me, forever and ever ...And my greatest wish was to die, on a good day to die. When a cottonish morning mist has gluttonously sat down on rime bitten moors, above the fog a crystal clear winter sky houses an unwarming white sun, when my heart and thoughts are clear and at peace. And the only thing i miss would be... I will never be away I will be watching you from the grave With a sword thrust through my heart Not alive, not quite dead I will be waiting for the one Who will pull this blade from my chest I will kill you with your weapon In death, you will look your best
What lays behind your clouded eyes? Your skin feels cold to touch, what troubles you? Frostbitten mistress, remember the old times? Wish you had given me, things i am due You were a gift to me, from heavens sent Foolishly I thought you were my salvation Envy has poisoned me, Our beginning was my end By my hands slain, You were my damnation
The last time you damned my tomb, in a luscious tipsy lure My bones, you roused them all, shook the grave and the moor I've been dying a death every day, yet not out of tears Did you know the dead could die? Neither did I, it so appears Each time you slept with others, it made my tombstone itch Hence I'm alive now, I'm going to get you, bitch! Even you sleep on pillows, those filled with peacock feathers You're dead but just mine now, and it's all that matters...
Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness- for then The spirits of the dead, who stood In life before thee, are again In death around thee, and their will Shall overshadow thee; be still. The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall not look down From their high thrones in the Heaven With light like hope to mortals given, But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever. Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions ne'er to vanish; From thy spirit shall they pass No more, like dew-drop from the grass. The breeze, the breath of Satan, is still, And the mist upon the hill Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, Is a symbol and a token. How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! (by E.A. Poe)
In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty slandered with a bastard shame: For since each hand hath put on Nature's power, Fairing the foul with Art's false borrowed face, Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black, Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, Sland'ring creation with a false esteem: Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe, That every tongue says beauty should look so. (by William Shakespeare)
Hold my hand, griefworn lonely one Give in to oblivion, forget everything Winter sun, shall be mine The chill of night, freeze my heart Nothing's left, of my mind My sorrow, my ode to oblivion Autumn, hold me close Sunset, paint my fears In joy, sing the Ode to sorrow, without tears Hold my hand, griefworn lonely one Give in to oblivion, forget everything Winter sun, shall be mine The chill of night, freeze my heart Nothing's left, of my mind My sorrow, my ode to oblivion Autumn, hold me close Sunset, paint my fears In joy, sing the Ode to sorrow, without tears Wish I was dead Never to get sad Again by dawn I yearn for thou My heart is thine So are thoughts of mine Thou art the dust On a wind that sighs
Autumn, hold me close Sunset, paint my fears In joy, sing the Ode to sorrow, without tears Joy is a temporary deception to make you feel its worth (to live) To live is a vast illusion dispelled only by (sorrow) Sorrow is the only way to see beauty beyond (darkness) Darkness is to live and death is salvation