The Great Old Ones - Rue d'Auseil | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• The Great Old Ones
• Rue d'Auseil

This is a sound, to see the invisible
This is a partition, dictated by those who are hidden
This is a frantic race, to keep pace
This is a sound, to hear the inaudible

In the dark attic, the old man plays his viol
Again and again

Continuing his passionate dance, that doesn't
Seem to stop
Continuing his violent trance, he brings his
Spirit to the top
He tries to protect, protect himself from the dark
He tries to save his skin, wrinkled like bark

His arm numb, he sees it in his skylight
The dark vortex, he knows it's for tonight

His instrument falls to the ground
Tired, he lets himself be taken, profound

He lets himself be taken

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