A Tomb Among the Oaks

from by Oblivions Kiss

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Circle of crows, bed of worms, my soul to rest, your son returns to the fold
Holy heathen mother, weary bones, oaken tomb, your child is coming home

Cold arms, my hearse, carry me on to whence I came
Ancient ancestral wasteland, I’m bound to this habitat

With heavy steps I stride into the woods
I follow the trail one last time
Sacred forest grave
I lay my weary head to rest, my last bed of soil
and rock
the roots shall take my body
as I become one with the earth

Conceive my dead hand behind
While shiver climbs up the aggrieved mind
Can't let me down as I'm teared
Scourging the rest of me, I am so scared
Finally this burden of life remains shattered
And scattered as fractured, a mental suicide

A dry throat, even the fountain of devoid vigor,
shall not be able to irrigate this wasteland
Withering in the natural casket
A farewell for ever and ever and ever lost to devoid vigor


from Aeons of Silence, released December 11, 2015



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Oblivions Kiss Hamburg, Germany

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