Pale Folklore
Album - 6 luglio 1999 - Debaser id 116460

Instrumental

Kiss me coldly and drain this life from my lips
Let the cold blood flow on it's own...
Kiss me coldly and fall away from the soul
Long forgotten...

From which of this oak shall I hang myself?
These ebon halls are always dark...
From which frostbitten bough shall I die?

As dark as the winter, as black as her ghastly veil
As cold as her whisper and chilling gown

No corridors of life and beauty
These enchanted halls are stained with the blood of night
Ebon halls gleam as ghosts of a fire dance wickedly across a pantheon of marble

These weary eyes shall open no more, frozen tightly by the cold embrace of death
A charnel house of memories torn and burning melancholy shall embrace me now

Hear this call...
Beyond endless halls and far across the vast forest, just across the iron gates
Whispers...

As dark as the winter, as black as her grim mask of death
As cold as her sorrow, her ivory tears

No corridors of life and beauty
No bloodred sky, no colors left in this world

It was the light's end

[Music by Haughm (12/97 - 2/98)]

There lies a beauty behind forbidden wooden doors
A beauty so rare and pure it would make human eyes bleed and burn

She killed herself in the fall

I am the unmaker, I bring death to the beautiful dawn
With pillor, cold and a legion of dying angels

I killed myself in the spring

A grim bough had hung me high
I sank the fires of the Sol
Here, nightfall reigns

I oppose the light
I gather the storms with a sword I wield with hate
I shot down the sun with bow and flame
Pillorian for the dead winter

I am the unmaker
The pillorian, the ending
I die...
I damn you the dead winters

The shallow voice of the wind cries between these ebony wings
The shallow cries of the wind sing a swansong for mankind

Shine on morning skyfire
ablaze this final day
The autumnal end, the dawn of man
The centuries fade below my feet

I soared above them as they worthlessly poured thought from a chalice
As wisdom would flow, twilight would come to pass
Drink, oh hallowed cup of life

Shine on evening skyfire
Paint the sky with the blood of a raven
Bereavement, oh garment of ebony
As embers dress the dusk of man...

[Music by Haughm/Anderson (3/96 - 10/96)]

It was in this haunted place under a moonless cloak of ebony
I was drawn to the glow of a young spiritess weeping in the woods

The blackest ravens and ice-veiled boughs
Have spoken of you, goddess of these bleak woods
I yearn for your embrace, spiritess of the melancholia
Show me, again, your sweet face
Enchant me with your rich, cinder burnt ether
Lure me into your arms and bless unto me eternal death

She had spoken to the dawn
Her words wisped in tongues of the wind

And then silence...
Pale clouds betrothed the dawn
Black rain fell
The birds wore masks

The haunting stain of her woe
Had burned itself into the oak
Night had gone
Bereaved, I was torn for her

One last time I witnessed her beauty in the distance
The arms of the trees tore at her morbid gown swaying in the loathsome winter
breeze
She faded before my eyes
Since that day a thousand veiled birds have taken flight
And the melancholy rain still pours forever on...

(Music by Haughm (4/97 - 3/98)