An ode to the Devil's presence in nature, this will be the last Bròn track with black metal elements (at least for the foreseeable future). To be released as a strictly limited cassette edition in the summer.
The sky draws close
To embrace with misty tendrils
And obscure silver beech
Crowned with Autumn’s rust.
Flaming corridors open before me
Swallowed by the fog ahead,
Leaves cling to boughs in futile defiance of the winds
But fall to carpet the earth
As each battle ends in inevitable loss.
Entranced by the silence
And November’s decay,
The rhythm of footfalls
Disturb fiery foliage
Where other men do not tread.
The mist surrenders to the bloody light
Of the retreating sun
And trees disperse
Their congregation thinning before stoic bluffs
And the purpling hills beyond.
A solitary raven
Challenges the silence
With a victorious cry
The conqueror of all that lies below.
Atop the rocky precipice
I am overcome
By the endless sorrow
Of looking upon another vista
I will ultimately leave behind.
I yearn to lay my flesh to rest here
To be swallowed by these unforgiving crags,
But hope wanes with the ailing sun
And I turn away to continue seeking
A place to lay my roots
A land to be my grave.
Amidst the closeness of the trees once more
And under its shadows
The fog returns emboldened
Its cold grips my bones in vaporous embrace
And my marrow aches to bury exposed roots
In the dank soil.
In the shifting light
And writhing mist
Beneath the Devil’s watchful gaze
I hold to the faith
That He will provide.