Primordial - To the Nameless Dead 2007( I ) | Текст песни

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• To the Nameless Dead 2007( I )

1. Empire Falls

A cold wind is blowing
Through the graves it is blowing
And it bares a poisoned tongue
And the foul breath of deceit

I am my fathers son
And his deeds
Cannot be undone... be undone

You trade in his blood
Writing your history
In the sacrifices of the dead

Where is the fighting man?
Am I he?
You would trade every truth
For hollow victories

Every empire will fall
Every monument crumble
Forgotten men who watch the centuries

Whose silent words
Rise up in betrayal
We will rise up in betrayal

Where is the fighting man?
Am I he?
You would trade every truth
For hollow victories

Every empire falls
And the earth to ashes turn
The lands of my birth
Shall be my tomb

The are the lands, the lands of my birth
Soon to be ruins, the ruins of my past
And when the sky should fall
The earth to ashes turn
Then you know they shall be my tomb

Where is the fighting man?
I am he
You would trade every truth
For hollow victories

2. Gallows Hymn

Sister, do not pray for me
There is no forgiveness here
Just the longest, darkest night
And my peoples end

Brother, many a crooked day we spent
Telling tales and making myths
Sharpening our tongues for the final fight
Yet doing little but growing old

I was never a religious man
So why should I put my faith in you?
You burned your bridges a long time ago
I'm a heathen, searching for his soul

\"History is often dictated by faith. Putting the worlds to rights while it passes you by. Is there an honour in following your words to the bitter end despite being plagued with doubts?...\"

3. As Rome Burns

We are falling over the ends of the earth
So gather your children before you
And tell them that these are the final days of all
And preach to the paupers

And sing to the slaves

I see you've chosen to loose your faith
To burn your bridges and lose your way
From mountain top to valley deep
From shore to cursed shore
What nation, what state, what land is this?

The wretched tribe of Nero...
Tribe of Nero...

Sing, sing, sing to the slaves
Sing to the slaves that Rome burns

Are our bones not dust, our blood not poison?
On my knees in the black light
Searching for salvation, bitter redemption

So throw your dice and cast your shadow
You may look away, but your children will not...

4. Failures Burden

Days drift and I rise to the cold sun
I was born an old child
With no place for faith in my heart
Aged in my sleep or bitter times ahead

You may say I've given up the ghost
Once and for all admitted defeat
And laid out my hand for all to see
And made peace with the beast in me

Winter mocks me though he does not need to
call my name
He thinks my bones are brittle
And the grip of my resolve is tired
Sullen and weakened just the same

I don't remember when it happened
When the clocks stopped
Their hands tied
And my heart stood still

I have saved the least for last
Torn out all who reached for me
A beggar before beauty
Failures burden rests with me

Every man is evil
Every man a Liar
And every word he speaks
Kindling to the Fire

5. Heathen Tribes

This is my church
It stands so tall and proud
It has done for all time

It has no walls
Yet its vast halls
Reach from shore to shore

To whatever shore
You know as your own
We stand as one, we stand alone

We are born
From the same womb
Hewn from the same stone

From the frozen Baltic
I watched sunrise over Athena
Walked the battlefields of Flanders
And saw duskfall at Cintra

Beneath the spires of Sofia
Fields of crosses at Arnhem
Armenius stood tall in Teuteborg
Senatus Populusque Romanus

To the fjords of Hordaland
Shadows of ancient Albion
At the shore of a 1000th lake
Saint Vitus dance in Praha

Yet when to Ireland we Return
I know that I am home at last
And every sun that sets
Takes me closer to her Earth

6. The Rising Tide

[Instrumental]

7. Traitors Gate

Borders swell like the oceans
Nations swept away
In the steel rain
Wounds carved in the earth
The silent hands of genocide
Map the years
Forgotten legacies of dust
People remembered in nothing
But fragments of language
Verses of song
And shards of military rust

The gallows cold hands
Tighten old rope
Young men hang in the fetid breeze
Like rotten fruit
Too ripe for harvest
They have marched us
Through the streets
Heralded our death
Proclaimed our end
And brought us to our knees

A host of the willing few
Is gathered at the Traitors Gates
Demanding their pound of flesh
And their weight in gold

The tyrant
Resurrected as King
Who's Midas touch an Iron Fist
All the world proclaiming
Yesterday's man as Traitor
Yet welcome with open arms
His brother as tomorrows Dictator

8. No Nation On This Earth

The sea will be as a desert
When my bones are long to dust
Beneath shifting dunes
And the searing Unconquerable son

Pile the bodies on the pyre
Warm the old heart of the earth
This is no place for faith, nor for hope
Just a journey through the darkest of nights
To the old heart of the earth

These are wounds made by cold hands
That know the bite of steel
Hands that have rendered life extinct
And punished the weak at heart

Tell me what Nation on this Earth
Is not born of Tragedy?
That has not felt such harsh weapons
Wielded by cruelty's desire

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