Wreathes - Odes | Текст песни

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• Wreathes
• Odes

Sing now your odes:
Odes to Triumph.

Odes to Barons,
Odes to Brothers.

Odes to Spirits,
Odes to Shadow.

One deeply felt,
in the cultus gaze.
The Triad’s birthright;
the Sun ablaze.
Lifted toward the apex of man,
love-twins embody the life-stream’s span.

Bringing them down,
upon the crosses.
A cobra’s voyance of the cruxes.

For our saints of our choosing,
recite.
Judge ye.
Set forth.
Ignite.

Sing now your odes:
Odes to Trueness.

Odes to read Rights.
Odes to Rebirth.

Odes to Hallows.
Odes to Huntsmen.

Odes to Disgust.
Odes to Desire.

In ridding mouths of salt and steam,
our gilded lungs,
they breathe,
they gleam.

Faltering backward,
upon the rock.

The snow holding,
a handsome deadlock.

Now cleanse your feet.
Now drop your scruples.
We’ll let these years form our carols.

The kingdom of God is not in word.
Our path is paved,
not out-martyred.

Sing now your odes:
Odes to Death’s head.

Odes to Fearing.
Odes to Foresight.

Odes to Cherubs.
Odes to Charnels.

Odes to last Lies.
Sing now your odes.


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