Fen Carrion Skies 1. Our Names Written In Embers Part 1 (Beacons Of War) Embrace the fallen leaves of the burned Cry havoc these paeans of woe Ten thousand sins sliced upon the canvas Of a furnace as yet undimmed The furnace is undimmed These pyres scar a torpid sky Steepled are the burning mounds These offerings to eternity are legion Beacons of war Beacons of sorrow Flames that yearn For blood on the 'morrow Cleansing Never to be extinguished Remorseless And when the storm of our rage is thus spent And crows stir the cinders of loss What legacy remains in a frozen abyss Strewn with the detritus of vengeance Slaked are the thirsts That sear the nation But these throats yearn for more Throats seared by hatred's screams Parched by the lust for conquest Soils turned to lifeless dust underfoot Temples of rock reduced ruin The birth and death of Empire Rips at the skein of this world 2. Our Names Written In Embers Part 2 (Beacons Of Sorrow) To march again and again Under the sanguine banners that draped the skies Clouds rain sodden ash and her eyes stream with tears All that lies before us Carrion seas and vulpine cries Carrion seas and vulpine cries Aeons crushed Time-lapse devastation Epochs fold The breath of civilisations forged in ash Our names were written in embers Are carved into the bedrock of the fallen Sand blown carcasses weave a weathered tapestry On which we paint the lexicon of extinction Litanies of loss Chanted at bruised skies Scarred by the violence Of ideals embroiled Dogma - credo Unstitch reason Cauterized - the feverish mantras That brushed the lips of the spectral prophets Crimson ichor stains the maw of the apostle Desolation flows in torrents Beacons of war Beacons of sorrow Illuminate the death-throes That welcome the 'morrow Dead this wasteland where once stalked phalanx of dreams 3. The Dying Stars From the utmost depths In blackest earth-flesh entombed I have arisen again The bedrock cracked by celestial vengeance Mountains cleft in twain Forests cindered by starfire Stir me from this greatest slumber Blood runs once more Blood of the forgotten seers Blood of those buried of mist-shrouded loss Veins pulse To banish millennia upon millennia of oblivion To unleash a howling keen of new knowledge Knowledge Ichor-smeared eyes bear witness to a firmament of turmoil My vision clears, my purpose hardens Ascendance - thy gift sears Burned by the embers of the dying stars It was once said that there is beauty in destruction That death brings serenity In the final exhalation of eternal peace Yet this thrashing conflagration of ending That scours all senses and purges the mind Brings only desolation And sorrow and woe Beliefs now cinders, credos in ruins A cold wind brushes the dead skin of withered ideals 4. Sentinels From the moss-wreathed skin A whisper of eternity The arms of the soil-bound sun A heart that beats and speaks in dust The teeth of worship Spread their message to the stars The time etched spine that turns the earth That builds a bridge beyond These sentinels stand tall With roots entrenched in memory's blood With silent purpose and astral intent Forged in the cycles of ages Broken for the flesh of tombs Their spectral tongues reach through the atmosphere To chronicle the churning of civilisations The sky is a sphere The sky is sphere in the burning night As the vacant trails blaze with life When voices speak the wheels grind Now torn away from the storm of time As they haze through endless motion As the slate boned pylons mark their course As ancient knowledge floods the graves These sentinels stand tall The gate remains unmoved A monument to the intangible aether This message faded to ashes Their cries are as nothing in the spiraling winds The gate remains unmoved, unbroken The message faded to ashes The door now locked on worlds unimagined The key is lost, unknown, forgotten Lost, unknown, forgotten 5. Menhir - Supplicant Prostrate we are On bended knee and foreheads pressed against the earth Stained with blood The altar is crimson yet the soils remain unslaked Before the vastness of the megalith Under the glare of a thousand veiled stares So much more needed More to be given to those beneath Present thy fragile forms Surrender... Supplicant Enshrine in roots, the first ones scream out A demand for vengeance A clarion call that resonates Throughout that cold void of forgotten epochs In silent serried ranks we move To the colossal pulse of the unknowable Yielding Willing This malleable swarm Compelled to carve remembrance Harbingers of sundered generations Slaves to a forgotten will Casting our gaze to the star-studded skies whilst our souls bleed into the thirsty earth - yet silent they remain The keening wails of the singers of the summoning songs remain unanswered, unheard. Yawning abyss, lifeless heavens unheeding but our supplication endears, the need for sacrifice resonates and echoes throughout generations before us and generations to come Shriveled wastelands tremble To the remorseless march of the lost Shackled in chains of surrender Slaves we are On broken knees and foreheads driven into the earth Drenched with blood The altar is eternal. 6. Gathering The Stones Here... Down within the dead pile Down amongst the dead "Down within the dead pile Down amongst the dead" Calling... Nameless... Rootless Currents, ply thy lash Scorched and drowned Punished and forgotten Left to oblivion's embrace Dwell... Eschaton Carry this rock, our testament A memorial etched in stone (For each of us outside) - one tablet One vessel, one guide, one totem Whose roots dwell far below At the depths Who amongst them shall bear the names? At the dawn of the ending? When the crimson window opens To flood all with the rage of the firmament? To name is to remember To remember is to summon To give form from memory This keening is sounds forever Thy back stoops low Under the weight of these stones Where upon the judgment of the end-time Will be laid bare upon a blackened canvas To honor the litany of myriad of past worlds Immortalized, crystalline To be dissolved within pyres of subjugation And there will be no sound Silent are the funerals - For circles wreathed in ash Grungyn: Artwork Greg Chandler: Mixing, Mastering