Ashenspire - Fever Sheds lyrics
[Ashenspire - Fever Sheds lyrics]
A man stare's into fetid
Gutters and leering Meriden
Stares back what cleanses is beyond him
What cures? Far above him
A pantheon of pestilence paupers
Enshrined in Fever Sheds
From holy typhus' hands - as lowly
Drudge of noxious seeds to sow
A consecration of inflammation from
Callous soil did grow
As blighted walls for gangrenous minds
For rusting spirit's and fever
Dreams opiate madness and sulphurous haze
All cathedrals to quarantine
Naught but abattoirs for
Screaming lunatics with
Blessed brimstone in their lungs
All that is dissolute and
Loathsome becomes his
City a byword for intractable human misery
And as they lead him through the
Gauntlet, the spires are reaching high
Playing arms of Atlas
Belching forth their cancerous mire
Poverty's sores weep into these
Gaping mouths the
Gaping mouths of child and gutter-dweller
This is how a nation
Dies mile by God-forsaken
Mile, like seeds upon the callous soil
Mile by barren mile
Gas lights with tired eyes, their
Glare as perdition's outer circles
Rest upon him - the conspirator
- in machinations with Merihem
Yet, are his maladies to be
Counted amongst his blessings?
His skin rots and falls from his bones
In driving rain, from bridges
O'er noisome waters hanging
He carves his words, in anguished rage
On the pillars of the golden ribcage
Withering beast under dolorous
Sky, with gaunt, Stooped
Wretch plunging harpoon into the eye
Saying: "All greatness firm in the storm"
Gutters and leering Meriden
Stares back what cleanses is beyond him
What cures? Far above him
A pantheon of pestilence paupers
Enshrined in Fever Sheds
From holy typhus' hands - as lowly
Drudge of noxious seeds to sow
A consecration of inflammation from
Callous soil did grow
As blighted walls for gangrenous minds
For rusting spirit's and fever
Dreams opiate madness and sulphurous haze
All cathedrals to quarantine
Naught but abattoirs for
Screaming lunatics with
Blessed brimstone in their lungs
All that is dissolute and
Loathsome becomes his
City a byword for intractable human misery
And as they lead him through the
Gauntlet, the spires are reaching high
Playing arms of Atlas
Belching forth their cancerous mire
Poverty's sores weep into these
Gaping mouths the
Gaping mouths of child and gutter-dweller
This is how a nation
Dies mile by God-forsaken
Mile, like seeds upon the callous soil
Mile by barren mile
Gas lights with tired eyes, their
Glare as perdition's outer circles
Rest upon him - the conspirator
- in machinations with Merihem
Yet, are his maladies to be
Counted amongst his blessings?
His skin rots and falls from his bones
In driving rain, from bridges
O'er noisome waters hanging
He carves his words, in anguished rage
On the pillars of the golden ribcage
Withering beast under dolorous
Sky, with gaunt, Stooped
Wretch plunging harpoon into the eye
Saying: "All greatness firm in the storm"