Tracks

01. Intro
02. Pity The Weak
03. A Soul To Bear
04. Lament
05. Last But Not Least
06. The Fall Of Efrafa



01. Intro

[Instrumental]


02. Pity The Weak

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


03. A Soul To Bear

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"


04. Lament

[Instrumental]


05. Last But Not Least

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?


06. The Fall Of Efrafa

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]