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Keep Close the Watchfires Full Album Lyrics

Gloaming - Keep Close the Watchfires cover art

Keep Close the Watchfires

TypeAlbum (Studio full-length)
GenresDeath Metal, Doom Metal
Album rating :  -
Votes :  0
Lyrics > G > Gloaming Lyrics (6) > Keep Close the Watchfires Lyrics (6)
Submitted by level 17 Besi Karat (2015-03-27)
1. The Nightmare of Braddock Heights (6:56)
No one knows whence it came
Swift spirit of the old country
Beast come up from the depths of hell
Foul spawn of the ancient ones

On leathery wings it tears through the night
Taloned claws and a gazing eye
Beak of steel filled with stabbing teeth
'Round which wriggles arms of seething slime

Howling and screeching in the light of the moon
Swooping down like an arrow keen and true
Nails like meathooks rip its prey from the ground
Carried unseen into the shadows of the mountains

The hunting party wanders through wooded hills
Following broken branches and vile filth
Coming to the place where the demon did the deed
Poor soul emptied of life and blood

Terror spreads through the mountain towns
"Our doom is nigh, 'tis the coming of the beast"
Sign of the hex with its seven pointed star
Futily striving to keep the demon at bay

The Snallygaster knows no law
Abides not hexes nor prayers of men
Death is coming on leathery wings
Ruin roars in the Blue Ridge
2. Goat-Man (9:21)
Stalker of night terrors
A shadow lurking in the corner
Darkened figure of the forest
A hushed rumor clad in black

A family dog gone missing
The search led to the woods
Its head was severed cleanly
The body nowhere to be found

There could only be one culprit
Distant brayings made that clear
A chill emanating from Zug Road
So began the reign of the Goat-Man

The avatar of Satan
Or merely hubris made flesh
A product of ambition,
Arrogance and knowledge-lust
Or something far, far older
Summoned by dark ritual
Sent forth from the deepest hells
Left hand of the Lord of Lies

Seven feet tall
Standing on cloven hooves
Horned, bearded, bedraggled
Brandishing a headsman's axe

Pets were just the beginning
The goat had larger prey in mind
Lovers' lanes ripe for harvest
Lust met with violent demise

The corpse-count kept on rising
Fourteen in as many years
Dare not stray into the forest
The Goat-Man lives, indeed

Still it haunts the backwoods
Feasting below a rusted bridge
Slumbering in musty caves
Nourished by the darkness
Again will come the terror
Visions of a blood-soaked axe
Wielded by clawed, inhuman hands
Curved horns back-lit by the moon

A champion of ruin
With no passion but for death
An engine of destruction
Forever stalking forests
Howling winds carry its call
3. Curse of the Frozen Witch (5:26)
Ugly old crone on the outskirts of town
Kept to herself in her ramshackle hut

Living off of alms
Pennies for herbs, potions and poultices
Maybe arcane arts fueled her talents
But she never harmed a soul

Nobody paid much mind to Ol' Moll Dyer
But then fortunes turned to ash

A plague of flu on funeral winds
Livestock met the reaper in droves
Then one February night
Lightning rent snow-driven clouds

A heap of empty beer mugs
Littered the alms-house tables
" 'Tis that old witch's fault, this"
The storm had finally burst the dam

Torches, pitchforks, axes and rope
There'd soon be hell to pay
Hut went up in a blaze of righteousness
Ol' Moll fled the flames, into the frozen wood

Trudging through the snow, she collapsed upon a stone
As the icy grip of death wrapped its fingers 'round her heart
She held one hand aloft, fist raised to the sky in rage
Calling up old black magicks that she'd learned but never used
Miasma of misfortune swept through the cursed town
Still Moll Dyer's rock holds the image of her frozen, dying hand
4. Black Aggie (9:46)
Monument of grief carven in eternal stone
Wordless image of all-consuming despair
Angel of sadness robed in folded wings
Suicide immortalized in hewn granite

Vain, proud Frenchman, hero of countless wars
Came over the sea, a hunter of the alps
Took twelve bullets for the army of the north
Swaggered with a rattle of accumulated lead

The years carried ever on and on
General Agnus found himself a loving wife
Decades of prosperity at a newspaper's helm
The time had come to see to the family plot

A good patch of land in Druid Ridge
Restful bed for weary bones

No plain stone would do for a legacy like his
In his search, he found the embodiment of grief
Dead-eyed stare draped in the shadow of anguish
Face of the grief angel haunted every waking thought

Felix had himself a copy made
Clandestine casting in the black of night

Fought tooth and nail to keep his ill-got prize
Carved in dismal grey, spartan to the bone
An inscription below bore the name "Agnus"
The grave site reeked of a mind fixed on death

Annie passed in '22
Death took Agnus in '25
Buried at the feet
Of that dead-eyed effigy of gloom

Inoccuous grey under the brightness of the sun
Under the light of the moon, an impenetrable black
As the bells chime midnight, its eyes glow red
Calling for the spirits of the madness-stricken dead
Pilgrims gathered 'round, but were blinded by her eyes
No living thing could grow where Black Aggie cast her gaze
The stare of death took life unborn and life mature alike
Boundless wellspring of mania, delirium and death

Long years passed and the legends grew
She was defiled, defaced and disfigured
Finally moved to where she could do no harm
Until grief's gaze lands on another hapless soul
5. Ilchester (7:35)
An ill-fated location
Doomed to be forever cursed
Tavern in the backwater
Empty chairs and empty rooms

Ol' George couldn't sell the damned thing
There was no profit to be made
This was no place to start a business
But the isolation soon proved a boon
Brothers of the Most Holy Redeemer
Humble Italian order of the church
Drawn there by its solitude
Made Ol' George an offer
One he sure could not refuse
Old stone house became a chapel
Brick on brick and stone on stone
Built a palace of worship and study

At least that's what they told us

What waxes must surely wane
Ilchester, after all, was cursed
After a century of prosperity
Enrollment slowly fell to naught

After the decline came abandonment
Neglect, decay and buildings fallen to ruin

The power of the image of the son on the cross
Proved to be powerless indeed
From the bowels of the earth deep below
The very foundations of Ilchester's church
The fiery fingers of the dark lord
Spread like some malignant disease
Cultists and acolytes of Satan
Had long prepared for this dark day
Reveling in the destruction they had sown
Offering sacrifice of flesh and blood
The house of god had become a house of hell
Where no man of Christ dare set his foot

Black hoods and bloodshot eyes
Swirling dance around the altar
Chanting ancient incantations
Praise the victory of the curse

The isolation has prevailed
A place of a darker sort of prayer
Though the Hell House is but a ruin
The tingle of dread unseen lingers still
6. The Great Dismal Swamp (5:15)
7. Dwayyo (7:13)
Caught in the headlights
Out on pitch-black country roads
A momentary glimpse
Of a beast not wolf nor man

Coarse fur as black as night
Long, strongly muscled legs
Long, sharp claws and fangs
Low growl from drooling lupine jowls

Bone chilling howl
of the Dwayyo

The beast instilled heart-stopping fear
Horror spread like wildfire
Hide the livestock, lock the doors
Surely soon the wolf would kill

Yet people remained unscathed
Even through their fruitless hunts
Not a single solitary soul
Ever met an untimely death

You see, the Dwayyo did not thirst
For the blood of mortal man
It hungered for far larger pray
The winged demon of the Blue Ridge itself!

Iron fangs ached
To sink into serpentine neck

Summoned by the Sigil of Ameth
The wolf-man hunted far and wide
It came upon the demon's lair
Snallygaster bloated from its feasts
The Dwayyo lunged from the shadows
Its fangs found fleshy purchase
Black blood spilled upon the ground
The Snallygaster lay dead and limp

The howl of victory
Echoed across the mountains
Bone-white hunter's moon
Deepened to crimson, satisfied
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