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Yagan - Vore cover art
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Yagan

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Vore

(2017)
TypeEP
GenresBlack Metal
LabelsVintage Cult Records
Album rating :  -
Votes :  0
Lyrics > Y > Yagan Lyrics (11) >

Vore Lyrics

(7)
Submitted by level Eagles
1. Vore (1:12)
Instrumental
2. Rise (5:20)
Walking on sand
With a gun in my hand
Heading for houses
Lit by the moon
Short on supply,
I gouge out my eyes
And then fire blindly
Into the skies

Sick and so cold
My skin feels so old
I cough up my lungs
And spit out some blood
With Satan inside
I ride and I ride
From village to village
With God on my side

Frozen in time
An image of mine
One minute I'm here
And the next disappear
Who knows what I am
A demon or man
The marks on my back
Two horses in black

You won't be the last
See the trail of my past
A fitting demise
To a world I despise
You love and you hate
But me I just rise
From the ashes of man
With a gun in my hand
3. No More Honey (5:36)
No more honey

Blackened lungs
So choked in coal
My muscles thin and gone
Like Silus in the cellar mine
Just picking at my skull
Atrophied and thinning
Feed him soup
With bitter limbs
I climb up in the silo
And disintegrate again

No more honey

A sacrifice to Astaroth
My blood to feed your soul
Dripping from a gaping wound
The virgin Mary's hole
Sins complete my melodies
To rise above the flames
Like smoke rings warned the Indians
That death was on its way

No more honey
4. Something You Won't Understand (6:44)
I don't dance
The way that you do
I don't laugh
The way you want me to
I don't sing
The songs that you do
I don't smile
The way you want me to

I don't dance
The way that you do
I am frozen
My body cannot move
I don't laugh
The way that you do
What I find funny
Only disgusts you

I don't dance
The way that you do
My arms are weighted down
By thoughts I can't control
I can't see
The colors you see
Your world is bright
But I can't see the light
5. Old Ones Calling Me (5:53)
Endless nights of evil
Circling the mountainside
Winged demons on horses
Eyes in a flurry of hunger
Bubbling up from my throat
A God, the King of Frogs
Bless thee, unholy creature
Lay waste to the countryside

Old Ones calling me
Back to murky seas
In my majesty
Dead eternally

Force beyond good and evil
Shudder before his glory
Skin dripping off of my body
Light shining out and with in me
Power replacing compassion
Hunger consuming my heart
Out in the darkness, I travel
Spreading my wings to take flight

Old Ones calling me
Back to murky seas
In my majesty
Dead eternally
6. The Autumn Moon (4:40)
Riding on the back of the winged reaper
At night losing track of false time
Devouring the souls of the pitiful
That rummage through the bones of our waste
A cry of delight and great wonder
At the bleeding wounds of the fallen
The time of great suffering upon us
Has filled me with lusts of carnal design

Ah! what beauty
To make love to the Autumn moon...

Gripping my cloak tight in my fist
Enveloping the moon in red mist
In every home hides a victim
In every dark street lies potential
I grow in the shadows as an ogre
Stripping fresh flesh from their bones
Cock throbbing hard with consumption
Til light calls me back to my earthen throne

Ah! What glory
To be born under an Autumn moon...
7. McAlpine's Fussilers (Dubliners cover) (4:36)
It was in the year of 39 when the sky was full of lead.
When Hitler was heading for Poland and Paddy for Hollyhead.
Come all you pincher laddies and you long distant men.
Don't ever work for McAlpine for Whimpy or John Lang.

For you'll stand behind a mixer till your skin is turned to tan.
And they'll say good on you Paddy with your boat fare in your hand
The craic was good in Cricklewood we wouldn't leave the Crown
With bottles flying and Biddies crying sure Paddy was on the town

As down the glen came McAlpine's men
With their shovels slung behind them
'Twas in the pub they drank the sub
And up in the spike you'll find them

They sweated blood and they washed down mud
With pints and quarts of beer
And now we're on the road again
With McAlpine's fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with Darky Flynn
Way down upon the Isle of Grain
With the Horseface Toole then I knew the rule
No money if you stop for rain

McAlpine's God was a well filled hod
Your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he who to looks for tea
With McAlpine's fusiliers

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea
Fell into a concrete stairs
What the Horseface said, when he saw him dead
Well, it wasn't what the rich call prayers

I'm a navvy short was the one retort
That reached unto my ears
When the going is rough, well you must be tough
With McAlpine's fusiliers

I've worked 'till the sweat has had me bet
With Russian, Czech and Pole
On shuddering jams up in the hydro dams
Or underneath the Thames in a hole

I grafted hard and I've got me cards
And many a ganger's fist across me ears
If you pride your life, don't join by Christ
With McAlpine's fusiliers
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