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absu - hallstatt كلمات الأغنية

[lyrical magick: proscriptor & equitant, musick: shaftiel & equitant]

from an empty house…

in take-flight, the grey hawks verged upon a sunless sky
wild, whistling winds carried them sorely, and sailed them bristly in the same shady sky.
in take-ground, branded the mark of hall and heave; their martyrs never left
2000 years, 2000 urn-burials, 2000 lies have now been erased.

[chorus:]
“we’ll kneel towards the foyer with our precious salz!
we’ll sound with h-rn, clash with wood and cleave with calls!
we’ve whittled the blades of hallstattian swords!”

in order to see such a legacy, fire burned with a past that turned;
anvils were forged at an early stage, molded as cats or iarn-leastair.
ioldanach has spied on this mistery, yet he’s enkindled by the light
with hues of argent lightning and ore of purem the salt grants them mastery and might.

[chorus:]
“we’ll kneel towards the foyer with our precious salz!
we’ll sound with h-rn, clash with wood and cleave with calls!
we’ve whittled the blades of hallstattian swords!”

[bridge:]
hallstatt
an salaan
an bas

[troid warrior:] “i see a battle; i feel the warp-spasm!”
[ioldanach:] the poised warrior yowls with blood about his belt.
[troid warrior:] “nothing shall draw my eyes away…”
[ioldanach:] his heart stirs atrociously, now to think.
[troid warrior:] “i convey the names to the planes of destiny!”
[ioldanach:] the poised warrior seeks an ancient seat foe the stone.
[troid warrior:] “wild, whistling winds still laugh at my howls!”
[ioldanach:] these acts of tale-telling dilate him to hate.

hallstatt
an salaan
an bas

[pre-avouchment of parable:]
the young ones of hallstatt, and the sky
silver-ilked spears have been whetted
vast hilts and sheeny torques of gold;
crafted from vanquished legacies.

hallstatt
an salaan
an bas

[avouchment of parable:]
“spirit of hors-m-n and spirit of iron age acclaim
the fame for 2000 crypts at hallstatt!”

[solo(s): shaftiel]

to an empty home.

in take-flight, the grey hawks verged upon a sunless sky
wild, whistling winds carried them sorely, and sailed them
bristly in the same shady sky.
in take-ground, branded the mark of hall and heave; their martyrs never left
2000 years, 2000 urn-burials, 2000 lies have now been erased.

“we’ll kneel towards the foyer with our precious salz!
we’ll sound with h-rn, clash with wood and cleave with calls!
we’ve whittled the blades of hallstattian swords!”

- absu

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