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Vargtimmen Pt. 2: Ominous Insomnia

"Vargtimmen Pt. 2: Ominous Insomnia" (2004)

1. The Wicker Man
2. The Pale and the Dead
3. Redemption
4. Ominous Insomnia
5. Cold, Son of the Wind
6. Ghost of Winter
7. Deception

1. The Wicker Man

The rain pours down with pain, dampening the straws of hay
Flowing down my face, mingling with tears
Tears of despair and rage, years of emptiness and hate
Soon swept away by the flames, mouldering ashes
All that remain, is a pile of charred bones
Raising dust for the wind to carry far away
The rain pours down with pain, yet they sing and dance
Floating in a trance like state, bewitched by the chanting
Masked faces far below me, laughing mockingly
The first torch is lit, soon followed by others
This is it now, it will all end, on this solstice's night

Flame, come take me, swallow me
Oh great nothing, devour me
Light it up, burn it down
May the gods, accept our sacrifice
Flesh to touch, flesh to burn
Do not keep the wicker man waiting
As flood I'll return, I am your sacrifice
Your corpse will rot into the fields, you'll famish and starve
As plague I'll return, going to destroy your world
With fever you'll burn, and I'll save none

2. The Pale and the Dead

In the woods not far from here, stands an age old dead tree
On a meadow once green, nothing grows now
They used to hang people from this oak, or so they legend claims
Beneath the shadows of these branches, witches and heretics have burned
The ground is dead and stained black with blood,
the sorrow of centuries it bears
No man, bird or beast dares to wander here
Even during daylight hours darkness always seems to be near
The soil is poisonous and swarming with snakes
Oh, I tell you, it's a cursed place
Here meet the pale and the dead, here the most coldhearted will dread

The pale and the dead, ghosts from times long gone
Relics of past dread, they walk beyond the sun

When the night falls, the mist rises from the depths of the dead, cursed soil
Damned, forgotten souls, centuries of old,
wake from their cursed sleep of empty eternity

The pale and the dead
wretched souls that prey on living flesh
The pale and the dead,
souls unset, forever doomed to haunt
The pale and the dead,
beyond dawn and daylight the stalk

3. Redemption

4. Ominous Insomnia

Still Holding on to a memory (of a dream)
Clung to a ghost of the past,
I am entangled in a maze (of the self)
With no way out

Tired of the empty promises of a new brighter dawn
Tired of all your fucking lies, that you keep preaching on
Tired of all the hypocrisy, all the scorn, and double morality
Only refuge is in a dream, but the dream always dies

An image of a desolate meadow (it's a dream)
All black, dead and barren, paints itself unto my cornea (it's for real)
I know, I've seen it before
...In a dream, maybe?

The drugs don't work anymore, immune to all the pills
Too afraid to sleep, too tired to live

Can't sleep, the visions haunt me
Should I close my eyes, would I dare?, dream, my last sanctuary
Now twisted into a morbid nightmare
...Without an end

The fever's getting higher, burning inside me like fire
The shadows are getting deeper, oh dawn, why won't you come?

Tired of being alive, of thinking, of breathing
So why not just end it? Right here, right now
The sickness burns in my veins, working like a daze
Yet I am too scared to end my days

5. Cold, Son of the Wind

How chill is morning, how cold its melody.
On a season of withering, when time stands still
I listened and the wind spoke to me,
I heard the woods sing to me.

Reciting poems and myths, from earliest of ages
Shadow of a crooked rowan tree, looks more like a bear in sleep
Season fades along with its leaves,
until one plough day earth covers earth

Cold, son of the wind, freeze the winter willows
Chill the birch chunks, Cold, son of the wind

I listened and the rain whispered to me,
I heard the streams murmur my name.

Shared their timeless wisdom, a cruel tale of nature unveiled
Until one plough day earth covers earth

6. Ghost of Winter

The pathways in hiding I trudge, a mere wanderer am I
Philosopher, soul of songs, naked, ragged and torn
Treasures of kings bear no meaning for me,
your morals and laws are not for me
Through the air, on wings unseen, arrive my treasures, unmeasured
Like a ghost I glide from shadow to shadow
At the edges of your known world, in your dreams I hide

On wings of winds, like a ghost of winter
I breath my cold of thousand yesterdays

Someday the whole world will know:
Misanthropy is not phase
And where I go, you can't follow

7. Deception


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