1. |
Introduction
00:58
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2. |
Pity the weak
06:17
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Fell down upon the realm of man
On a scorned mound
We erect another monolith
Buckled under its own ego
Another pillar of content
Another milestone of man
Pity the weak
We cry out in laughter
As trees are felled
How the mighty have fallen
We mock the roots
Parasitic ape;
Spills his black blood
Blotting out the sun
Wither to sallow flesh
Saplings writhe where man is idle
An imperfect genocide
Erected upon weakened ground
Finally gave way
Toppled down. Toppled down
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3. |
A soul to bear
04:16
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|
Man built god;
dragged himself upon a pedestal
kicked dirt in the faces of all other life
Crowned himself as deity
What animal separates this ape from that?
The human animal; ignored and loathed by louse and lion
Revel in our glory, in every brother is quarry
Butcher every life, until our land is stained and dead
From our towers we cry "every man shall bear a soul,
a right that no other beast shall bear"
and in the shadows the dogs shook their heads
"shame upon those apes, pride comes before a fall"
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4. |
Lament
01:49
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5. |
Last but not least
10:39
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|
Give us this day!
Our daily dead!
Curse the sun for this sight
Lay strewn upon the ground, can we not offer humility?
Breath hungry, life lost, faith starved,
Can we not offer humility?
Digger dig deep, feel for sights and sounds
Press your ear against the earth, upon the ground
Runner, ride out, against the turning tide
The sun beats down upon the land set aside
Foreboding fates will not cease
Laying my death before me
Arrows split against my hide
I am everyone, everyone in these eyes
I will witness the fall of efrafa
I will witness, witness the fall
Give us this day!
Our daily dead!
Can we not offer humility?
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6. |
The Fall of Efrafa
14:51
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|
The warren is empty tonight,
Blood spills on toiled ground
Fur will hang in ragged clumps
Upon the hedgerows
Peace is lost to us now,
A fettered ideal [x2]
They are the warmongers
And they will make our laws
A paw will fall upon the weak
They will mark the day
In death we make our charge, our last lament [x2]
To turn the tide, in our numbers;
The final will fall - they have our fear
We have the will
A battle cry will sound out
Shrill against the night
And with it our retribution;
The warren is empty [x5]
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