Rain Delay Departure From album As I Bequeath My Yesterday. This song makes a transition in album from mellow sound into blackened doom sound. Enjoy! Departure: Time is irrelevant when the weather is changing, As my erst beloveth tears this soft and blackened haze. My olde swan waits, circling on his runway, Loch is reflecting my tear and his readiness for flight. Come, embrace me, and give me a last kiss. Forever remain here, I shalt never forget thee. As the first snow is falling, I bewail our first acquanitance. Thus thy eyes art so tearful of care my fears art still there. As the first snow is falling, we art hiding each other's tears. Those tears art reflected no more, The loch is now painted in white. My empress, I was thy raven Above the chateau, under thy own burthen. Under thy burthen of insignificance I flee. I flew, and I carried it away. I might be late for the wake. I might be late for the burial as well. Come, embrace my desire to depart. Oh beloveth, wither thy forecast. Morning, hearken to my dirge. Yester eve was mournful enow. Bon soir tristesse, je me suis rtourne. La silense, la nuit. Un jeun artyr, un belle fille et le seraphin de desire Attendent la permission pour voyage. Scorn breaks through tears and sorrow. Spleen in me takes bitterness through the storm, Into the waves of cold bitterness, Into th enorthern fields of winter. Cold swarm is flying over mountains. Towards north I depart, swarming with birds. The weather is changing.
Pages 001 - Tonight I am a Minstrel - December 15, 2009, 02:03 PM Tonight I am a Minstrel By Ron Hatton Tonight, I am a minstrel. A blacksmith yester-eve With Iron, heat and anvil sure, I knew what to believe. As I do still. Be I a maid or a carney shill, I live and lust for life. I live and so, am born to sin. Born to sin and strife. And yet I crave forgiveness for sins yet realized In the body of this man who weeps before the night. Where am I now, your chosen one, what can I believe? How am I to know when I'm to grow like oak, instead of reed? It matters not to ye who roam, it matters not to thee. It matters most to he, the fool. It matters most to me.