1. |
Cú Chulainn
05:29
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A chariot, men and horses, ride two by two
Sétanta hound of Ulster drives his foes through Airu
Single combat or with a nation, his long spear it gleams
In a spasm his sinews like reeds in a stream
At seven he'd slain Chulainn's hound with a stone
Took his place and begged make the King's arms his own
Who took arms that day would have eternal fame
A life cut short; his soul become flame
Chorus
My terror and fury will drive them all through the glen
I'll build a wall with the corpses of horses and men
Sucking an eye back into my skull so deep
The other eye: it dangles along my cheek
The cattle raid of Cuaille men of Connacht he'd smote
Killing all on his lone in The Táin Bó was wrote
Queen Medb had invaded to steal Donn Cúailnge
For months the fords of Cuaille heard Cú Chulainn's steel clang
He lie on the ground dying from his wounds
Naught could save him, Druid Magic, nor mystic runes
Healing his son, Lugh the god
Chulainn's hound burst forth in a vengeful riastrad
Chorus
Nechtan Scéne boasts of the Ulsters he'd slain
His three sons join the nether when he enters the foray
Gone into frenzy, his own land he goes to raze
Friend or foe standing before him; his wrath goes uncontained
The women bare their breasts, averting his gaze
Wrestling into barrels boiling water with his rage
Sent to the Fort of Shadows, Isle of Skye
Denied the Lady Emen
He bids his land goodbye
His enemies conspired in Cú Chulainn’s defeat
Breaking the geasa, he feasts the dogs meat
Lugaid armed with three spears to fling
Slaying Láeg, Liaith Macha, The Hound, all three Kings
Even in death, his foes watched in dread
When a raven mounts his shoulders, Lugaid takes his head
The hero's light fades
His sword arm did swing
On his final journey
Lugaid's right hand he would bring
Chorus
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2. |
Asterion
05:14
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Portals and chambers and halls with no end
Eternally bound to the garden maze
The labyrinth: This realm, perhaps made by myself
I've ventured a time, returning that eve
Children cried, people fled, gathered stones meant for me
One poor soul fled beneath the sea
Half a man, half a bull, made of godly seed
Called mad, misanthrope
An arrogant being
Touring my grounds, I charade with my guest
Another Asterion
Courts, mangers, cisterns, fountains
Infinite in number, yet I know them all
I charge as bull, tumble to the ground
I hurl from a rooftop bloodied and bashed
Nine men come to slay me every ninth year
I'll use their dead forms to furnish my rooms
I hear another nine in search of their prey
I beg this time that my redeemer has come
Rising from the dust to send me from this place
If only I could hear all of the rumblings of the world
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3. |
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Face down in a paddy, playin’ dead for two days
Good ol’ boys found me
From the dead I raise
Get the fuck up
We headin' to the hill
You've got some more god damn commies to kill
NVA forces are bunkered underground
A fitting place for Charlie's grave mound
Strap on a flak vest, there's no time to rest
These Red rice farmers are fucking with the best
All my buddies gettin' thrown to the grinder like a calf
Seen a Type 92 cut a man in half
Top brass send in orders with no qualm
Take down their cover with a wave of napalm
Inchin’ and crawlin’ our way up the grade
One hole at a time with flames and grenades
Bodies strewn, blown apart, never going home
A hole in a face
Another mind blown
The bastard's numbers weren't anticipated
I trip on a kid, limbs gone and decapitated
Pickin' up his mags, I wipe my face of the grime
It's about time for some more war crimes
None of us could know if they were good men or bad
When you kill a man you take away any chance he ever had
If I live, if I die, with my friends its just as well
I'll carry on the fight, and see you commies in hell
VIET FUCKIN' NAM
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4. |
The Pehliva
05:03
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The Pehliva, on a great hunt
Rode his mare to Samangan
Rostam’s steed was snared
For he awakened and Rakhsh was gone
How could he stand against the Turks
And how could he traverse the desert alone
He ventured to rid these thieves heads from their trunks
And such he swore that great oath
The power and might of Keriman
The stature of Sam, son of Neriman
The only soldier who would raise his mace
The Leopard and the Lion he was of their race
Soothed by the words of the King
Rostam was gifted with wine and song
The king’s own daughter called Tahmina would return the horse to whom it belonged
He’d leave her with an heir and entrust him with a jewel
To adorn the one who one day would rule
Chorus
The power and might of Keriman
The stature of Sam, son of Neriman
The only soldier who would raise his mace
The Leopard and the Lion he was of their race
A fight to the death that in no way could be won
For the two that combated were father and son
Such it was his son was doomed
The child of prowess that had fallen in his bloom
Sohrab had fully grown
With the strength that matched Rostam’s own
Leading an army to Zabulistan
Taking cities, castles, all in the land
Sohrab challenged his father he’d thought
Yet Rostam gave not his name, and the boy he knew not
All found the child to live up to his boasts
For days and nights fought the mightiest of the hosts
Shivering spears, turning swords to saws
Arrows, clubs, maces, weapons them all
Two matched in power, yet fate would make one no more
Rostam called for strength to defeat his foe
Beholding the jewel that lie on his breast
A father knew the one that he’d laid to rest
He made a great fire, torching all that he owned
His tent, armour, skins
The appurtenance of his throne
He came like the thunder, and vanished like the wind
Perchance it is written they would meet above again
Tossing black earth in her face
Tahmina’s own hair she tore
She burned Sohrab’s home and gave away all of his treasures to the poor
When she could bear the pain no more
Following her child, her soul went forth
Chorus
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5. |
Mamorlis
05:15
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“Hawkwind, I have the amulet!
Trebor be pleased!”
The last words I recall
I’ve slumbered in an endless torment
My power lost with my amulet
With no sight my fingers scrape a familiar sign
Specters, goblins, ghouls lend their powers to replace mine
Imprisoned in this tomb, no mere mortal
Milwa be cast
I ascend a hidden portal
“Look amidst the roots of the world,
For the truth lies in words burled
Seek The Nyin to travel the void,”
Kadorto: false god be destroyed!
A pyramid, catacombs, death of a thousand cuts
A temple of painted dreams
Coloured blades the true path shut
Minions slain, fighting on through endless skirmish
Until my wits be tested in a whirling dirvish
Chorus
Priests, Mages, Knights, all doers of good
Attacking, daring the will of my brood
Like a babe, I cry out to my throng
Whose power lies in shadow where we belong
Emron bellows, “Look amidst the roots of the world,
For the truth lies in words burled
Seek The Nyin to travel the void,”
For a false god I've vowed be destroyed
Creatures of light and dark face in a cube and maze
The Holy Grenade blasts me to the castle I've come to raze
The Breath of Life and Nyin guide through a Void, The Tree of Sephiroth
With The Kris of Truth in paw I slash the veil of a false god
Chorus
Tiltowait, Mamorlis, Talismans and Bone Bells
The Winged Boots, Arabic scrawls, lead to The Gates of Hell
"Werdna...where are you?
I come for you
My revenge is almost at hand
I almost have you
Now...
...You...
...Are...
...MINE!"
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6. |
The Black Six
04:28
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A half dozen riders
No gods, no masters
Their two wheeled wives all riding in group
Called dregs, bums, losers, boozers
Together no bastards could stomp out these brutes
Not slaves, or Mongols
Nor fallen Angels
Six riders in black
Drifting through shit-hole town to town
Finding respite in fields to broken down shacks
To live, to ride, to fight day by day
These brothers knew no other way
Not one day of peace when seen derelict
Fists and chains to the jaw they’d respect
Knifed with bottles, shattered bones, tokens of extreme
Tearing down the joint with their bikes beam by beam
They searched for a killer through desert plains, mountain pass
Knowing their fate lie in pools of blood and gas
Thor and his so called master race
Their brother's killers were now giving chase
Howling like beasts from two miles back
Outnumbered they stop for the final attack
Forming a phalanx of overturned bikes
An engulfing circle of flares, flames lights
The six black riders, all for one, one for all
If this day be their last then together they'd fall
Stabbing and slashing, knives, chains and bats,
Pistol whipped in the face
A blood oozing gash
Knocked from the saddle with a rock to the skull
Scalped with a switch, tearing it whole
A blade through the jaw
Bullet riddled leather
A growing field of dead
Bodies mangled
Hacked in two
A fat tire peels out on a head
Biting and clawing
Gouging out eyes
The Vargrs and the six would meet their demise
Down the hill roared Thor with a lit stick in fist
Jumping over their bikes to explode in their midst
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7. |
Ramirez
05:32
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Of demons or of men; he could not perish
Save his first death which led to the prize
Lives, loves he could not cherish
His true being in disguise
Juan Sánchez Villalobos Ramírez
Quick of hand, quick of tongue
How many heads his blade had taken
When the western world was young?
At Plataea he’d marched for Spartan kind
To a clifftop he was bade
The Kurgan defeated for a time
Sent from the edge and shattered his blade
The vilest of foes swore Take Ne to slay
They’d meet again at Babylonian gates
Escaping by sea with his head that day
To be The One they chased their fates
He’d heard of a man from Celtic hills
In league with the devil; clubbed and stoned
His clan had set his blood to spill
Angus did not one stone throw
The Highlander he’d learned had been banished
From the deadly stroke his life did not end
From the people he’d vanished
The Quickening would find him
His master, his friend
Teaching the price of immortality
Begging McLeod leave his life behind
From the pain of loss he’d wished him freed
His true path The Quickening, The Gathering
To parry and thrust with ease and might
The knowledge of all would be his to give
To lose his head his only plight
No fear of death but fear to live
Hunting the clansman in darkness thick
For one slain before yet had not died
The Kurgan burst inward through wood and brick
An old adversary instead inside
McLeod nowhere to be seen
They cast their words of gloat
Their swords in fire sheened
Ramírez swung and cut his throat
Slashing and dodging up the stairs
Casting walls of stone aside
Blades streaking lightning on grisly glares
A tempest matching their fury outside
Ramírez run through
One head nearer his goal
His teacher, his friend, from the world had gone
His essence trapped in The Kurgan’s soul
Masamune’s steel would be carried on
Of demons or men; he could not perish
Save his first death, which led to the prize
Lives, loves he could not cherish
His true being in disguise
Juan Sánchez Villalobos Ramírez
Quick of hand and tongue
How many heads his blade had taken
When the western world was young?
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Mamorlis Portland, Oregon
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