He awoke from a deathly torpor,
in a realm beneath the seas.
An Unkerd roke cut upon,
pillars of obsidian.
Hailed he from cragg and gorse,
where welkin burled and tewitt lek'd.
From cauldrons deeply he drank,
in the gorsedd of his sires.
The blade is cast,
into the deep.
Sun wheel has turned,
the votive sought.
He wills to skell his ichor
and lie in that nithering berth
deep in the bog where the bone starts to fail
Isara creep down the fell
cascading gyhll and lime.
The cold path hews the man,
As the wind carves the mountain.
supported by 4 fans who also own “As the wind carves the mountain”
Like a Spanish outlaw wrote this on a winter prairie while the ghosts took his home. Just an awesome piece with a rich tone. Check it out bubolunastella
Members of Baptists, 3 Inches of Blood, and more stage a well-executed d-beat demolition derby with flourishes of grind and doom. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 18, 2018