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Those of Tartarean Ancestry Full Album Lyrics

Vale of Amonition - Those of Tartarean Ancestry cover art

Those of Tartarean Ancestry

TypeAlbum (Studio full-length)
GenresProgressive Metal, Doom Metal
Album rating :  –
Votes :  0
Lyrics > V > Vale of Amonition Lyrics (8) > Those of Tartarean Ancestry Lyrics (8)
Submitted by level 21 Eagles (2018-02-07)
1. Summoning Tartarus to Swallow the Vale (4:56)
Though rockiness, though dampness shall follow pits of my end here,

With morbid war from morbid song I embrace the grief I enthrone from
down here,

Though God be great and the Devil be less, I will reign with Death down here,

I swore, I took an oath, I evoked, I through illusion now crawl with what
crawls over here,

All darkness, all pits, all sins, all gifts grim I bestow like wealth from down here,

All darkness and foulness of wind, all riot of wind, all wrath of wind I call
upon you from down here,

War made from rain, war made from plague, war made from the foul
love of Death I call to fall down here,

Upon the Vale, upon the Earth, upon all I loved down here,

Hear me gods of rain, of plague, of wind, of light that pains and flame that never wanes, of all the rage that I call to fall down here,

Reign of shadows, serpents, fiends, ghouls, phantoms, furies, howlings,
ghosts of gods; ambush, enslave, manifest, darken, torment, make your
place down here,

All the greatness of chaos and violence and rabid onset of madness and voices carrying dissent come fall down here,

All the core of beasts of pits of Hades of beyond Hades of after Hades of Tartarean ancestry of the grayest, life deforming halls come reign down here,

All the many headed, many handed, horrors vast and obscure roaming
realms never known of I call in rage, in rain, in my force of voice to come reign down here,

All the damning things that damned the past that damned the might of
gods that were that damned the light that damned the way of life I call to
fall down here,

All the loveless, heartless, mindless, lightless, soulless, realmless beings on the wing I call to fall down here.

The Titans suffering, be redeemed, crown of dreams,
Sisyphus reveal unto me the shame of despair,
Come…here…come! Come! Come!

Ah! Prometheus;
"Down below the earth, even below the pit of Tartarus, he should go to
his destruction and lie buried countless fathoms deep."
“Unbar the bolts of the darksome hollows and rouse the Titans from the
nether pit and destroy heaven the seat of God, who rules on high."
2. Monarch of the Pale Heavens (The Saturn-Ruled) (11:07)
The siege of sleep and the cosmic black fear,
On your knees you grieve where not dawn will appear,
The scarring of your soul by the king you hold dear,
Your flesh held by wolves in a wretchedly era,
Humbled, made poor, low end of the low tier,
Exalted in defeat, what will be’s what will be,
All’s doom, all’s doom, wretched now and cocooned,
Yet safer, yet safer, deathly heirloom.

What creeps and what hides will be made most high,
When doom applies to what won’t abide,
The earth needs the dying to feed what survives,
Myself included, my shadows and my doubt,
Old words return through my mouth to affirm,
Monarch of the pale heavens arise,
Let mine be the surface of the skin you desire,
In my blood, in my cum, in my sweat, come alive.

For your sake we’ll eat our sons,
Devour, devour...
For your sake our flesh we’ll rot,
We’ll rot, we’ll rot...

Ask of our deep need,
‘tis for our shadows to rise,
For our sadness to survive,
To acknowledge the darkness and within it take heart.

Honour our woes, our despair,
Our momentary triumphs, our will to survive,
All the madness decreed inside all belief,
The mantle of creed from which we are free.

Are you king, are you queen?
From whose gore were you gleaned?
Old serpent of old night,
Great lord of Tartarus,
Old fiend, the old grim.

Great doom from Tartarus,
My soul longs to see,
To see all afouled,
To see all defiled.

To see all devoured,
To see all devoured,
All that weakness has authored,
Deplored and devoured.

…not even, not even, not even then, were they avenged…

But what will we meet?
For I have been simply denied,
Simply without an end.

Our words, our forgotten words,
We speak with nothing revealed,
All words are inverted words,
All speech is molten.

Yet depths survive,
Morbid creatures of night,
Hear the howling of pale wolves,
See uglied eagles take flight,
Poets of a gray realm search for words,
Paling the darkness for light.

Fears come alive wreaking the meek,
Terrors sublime, gut wrenching defeat,
The will of great men made weak,
Visions of the elders made bleak.

But you’re weak,
Echoes the creed,
You thought you were free,
But you’re weak,
And firm in Saturn’s grip.

Where all are weak,
And devoid of will,
Fall on your knees,
Serve the tyrant, serve the night.

Be whipped by grief,
Embrace fear, hold it dear,
The dance of pain,
Learn it well, welcome hell.

Confronting self,
Ridding creed, finding depth,
The monarch pale,
In your heart is now king.

Therein a witch,
Secret words are revealed,
Find the alchemist,
Own your song, set it free.

Now glimpse a suffering man,
As a child with life consumed,
Follow him upon his path,
Finding grief where mirth grows.

Sights he set upon that hill,
A stretch of land for which to kill,
Love no other can reveal,
Clinging meekly upon his steel.

Narrow in his mind and ways,
Sees only what’s in front his face,
Yet desperate to bleed and to atone,
And not content with a life alone.

Pledges allegiance to his fathers’ filth,
None of which he truly believes,
Teaches his son these same words too,
That bring him sadness when he’s still.

Until he greets the monarch pale,
And reckons with death upon his breath,
Looks away in fear and hate,
Heeding warnings from somewhere else.

That to see him is to utterly die,
To utterly burn, to utterly cry,
Yet to greet him is to live,
To be reborn and never to grieve.

It is cold here,
Yet all paths lead here,
Here and only here.

I saw all I feared,
Through all I made bitter,
Forsaken what was dear,
Substance is what is here.

Nothing was ever clear,
(Serpents ever dear)
In silence all is here,
(Defeating all I feared).
3. Sorrow and the Story of Creation (8:55)
Towards a silent realm,
My wings have not beaten here long,
It seems there’s not much I have known,
What I offered here is gone.
Don’t forsake me here alone I beg,
I need your breath,
Don’t forsake me here alone I beg,
Untimely death.
“Oh God!” I cried, “What’s this you have done?!”,
“Man dreams, man loves, then bleeds, then dies...”

“What design is this? For what purpose does he bleed?
Is sorrow some thing from which souls are enriched?
That they should grow old, grow pale and then die,
That You should sit still, unmoved, enabled by angel tunes,
Deaf to their deafening gasps born of pain, of loss,
Wandering from vale to vale in search of You.”

Don’t forsake me here alone I beg,
I need your breath,
Don’t forsake me here alone I beg,
Untimely death.

God made them all, the leaf of every tree, the giant striding beasts,
The angels that would fall, the creatures that would crawl,
And I stood in great wonder at it all, the guardian of his praise,
The singer of his song; marveling, engrossed, solemn, watching,
When came Man, so much like I,
When came Man, borrowing His breath,
When came Man, only to end in Death.

And I was thrown upon the Earth,
Full of loathing, full of ire,
And there was weeping,
And there was blood,
And there were monsters in the Earth.
And I passed from legend into fiction,
As the Devil, as the thief,
And I was defiant through the myth,
A thing of darkness, a thing to fear.

I am the God that was and that will be,
I willed the breath of all into being,
I am the Christ that will save them all,
I shall be the god destroyed and the god uplifted,
And into forever I shall reign as I have reigned.

I am the Devil, I am Satan, I am king,
I began where God began,
I deplored Him as much I loved Him,
I walked realms unseen by the angels,
To rule amongst the forsaken of God.

Don’t forsake me here alone I beg,
I need your breath,
Don’t forsake me here alone I beg,
Untimely death.

Don’t forsake us here alone oh Death,
Without a grave,
Don’t forsake us here alone oh Death,
Your sleep we crave.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He lets me call Him by name.

We are in the hands of mad things...
4. Of a Painting Grim (The Apostle Gray and the Harvest Black) (5:49)
"God will not heal our profound despair”, the painter said,
As he borrowed the gloom from my mirthless eyes,
I heard him sigh, I heard him cry,
With brush in hand, conjuring a masterpiece.

“Time claims to heal but it does not repair” the painter wept,
We talked of graves and gods within graves,
And all the while he painted in flesh unrepented,
A doomed form of landscape art from a brutal yet boyish heart.

I was a sick youth then,
My features thin, my pleasures grim,
I couldn’t walk without crutches,
I daren’t dream without darkness,
But I eased myself off of the bed,
To see what my friend had painted yet.

And I beheld the might of doom,
In all the colors of the world,
Yet the only shades he had employed,
Were the Apostle Gray and the Harvest Black.

A vast portrait of bitterness stood before me,
A man at feast upon a table with limbless child and eyeless wife,
Awaiting them, in a shadowy meadow, the figure of death atop a black winged mare,
Suffering outside of them, my own form marking the footsteps of Death’s dark horse,
All of us begging and begging for the end beneath a sky in a ruin of crippled stars.

I came awake from this portrait to find the painter dead,
So I sat upon his chair, slit my wrist and said a prayer,
And I bled and I painted and I bled and I painted,
I bled as I painted…I bled as I painted…,
Spreading my blood to add some color to his despair.
5. The Most of Merry Funerals (6:34)
Beseeching...god the sufferer, the maker, the murderer!
Witnessing...the rape of Persephone, the death of the Nazarene!

Within the mirror that most befoul,
God the abhorrent and God the foul,
Screams he wove inside the Earth,
God the burdened and God the sad.

My tongue like lead; I suffer with your speech,
Above me the dread; and the Heavens weep,
Beside me the grave; and Hell beneath,
We once more send what we won't retrieve.

Beseeching...god the sufferer, the maker, the murderer!
Witnessing...the surge of rigor souls from the depths of Tartarus.

My cup runneth over; with a wine I bled,
My song is for funerals; this dirge won't wait,
Your ghost presides over; these proceedings,
In our newfound home; 'tis always evening.

Gather ghastly rosebuds and rusted bulbs,
The garden witch dances madly, ecstatically,
All aboard the grave new world,
The season of funerals, the spring of miseries.

Beseeching...god the sufferer, the maker, the murderer!
Witnessing...the rage of Sisyphus, the torment of Orestes.

I hosted the most of merry funerals,
With arms to welcome every new ghost,
We raised blemished voices in morbid song,
And sent God pale and weeping to a grim vault,
And in his name the things of the Earth die,
And we carry our blame to the destroying sky,
The result is a rain within some call tears.
6. Bitterness, Bitterness (6:26)

That day atop the hill with my song,
Slouching towards desolation,
In ash and earth and in my penitent robes,
Listening for the thin voice of forgiveness,
My future trembling at the promise of more darkness,
Hopes bared to the foul will of godly silence,
Arriving bitter into the valley; a great king uncrowned.

“...they make tale of a bleak man and his brothers; bleak man of the Vale who buried his brothers one after the other...seven I think they were; a mighty great number each driven into the ground.”

“Pale things, pale Vale, pale this, pale that...thrown around...scattered...not quite coherent; and many conversations have been had but I can’t quite put my finger on it, the first time that he announced-”
Tell me, did you ever dare God to kill you?
Does your knowledge of woe ever enrich you?
Is your gratitude for suffering the measure of your worth?
What does your lack of mirth aim to teach you?

Oh you coward, I will kill you!
Oh you coward, how I loathe you!
Oh you coward, I will teach you,
A bitter song to decompose you!

Bitter! Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!

And forth into the vale of primordial tears,
Dreams solemnly passing from darkness to darkness,
Rendering silent the hubris of religious doctrine,
Heeding the ancient voice of frail wisdom,
My future ready for the violence of peace,
The sorrows of joy that anoint the godly silence,
The Sun ignores the valley for every breath there is soon buried.

The pale thing of the Vale grieves again,
This time in another's arms, suckling and tender,
As one once joyful succumbs to one mortally dreadful,
The weeping willows, the silky forest that knows all crime,
Combine and defend, cavort and assuage,
The spiteful turn of heaven born, hellish-like wind.
The fault has been awarded the pale man who upon this enchantment fell,
No love cares long for the barren,
A rich mouth that sings no song,
A savage hideous heart forever thankless,
Bland and sullen in its sorry disposition of imitated carnage.

And surely much vanity is willfully buried beneath the flesh of incompetence;
I agree with this and with all I've bloodied,
From my desperate role as hunter,
Gods I once parodied, fashioned and accused,
Worry with me in this bloodless hour,
More so now that I am heartily refused entrance in this forest of the lies I sired,
Fling my worship into my face;
see the savage disgraced,
But wholesome and without plea or substance to the grief;
charming though it is,
As the poignant Vale of Amonition.

Dust and Rosewrath grace the grave,
In a hue of ashes and flowering decay,
Of a style Abyssinian and dourly brave,
In conforming to regulations of the slain,
To honour and uphold the last available slave;
seal the fate of the flesh of that sufferer,
Who summoned the chaos of hunter and gatherer,
To seed through violence the virtue of endurance;
pale gray Vale.
7. Those of Tartarean Ancestry (6:53)
i. solemnities and avowals

Pisces stares blankly into the darkness,
Sorrows unweave, thicken, then scatter,
Forest of grief embedded in my flesh,
Where travellers and martyrs weep for water.

Give me a child in its fullness of death,
An imprisoned babe in the arms of the dead,
From centuries of the Ashen Arrival,
Fanstraa Doomith and the Raggen assemble.

Give me light blacker than any darkness,
From the sun of enduring despair,
Prepare me lord for the Ashen Arrival,
And Lowmen’s hymns of a dead god’s caress.

ii. prayers and supplications

Hekantokheires grant me entrance into Tartarus....
8. Revisiting the Bitterness of God (15:00)
…light without fault,
and the spark of virgin fire,
a disease of pure origin,
aching of the first lonely man…

there in your great kingdom,
surveying the wealth of worlds,
haste upon your hands,
making the first lonely man…

…there was once a scarless skin, there was once a woundless soul,
there was peace so fine, man was endlessly divine…there was once a warless world,
there was once a timeless time but the skies were hiding a wrathful God awaiting.

Bare at the foot of Hell, approaching with solemn song,
remembering the tombless heavens from which I was thrown.

Eyes observing God,
Jubilant in his murderous temper,
Breathing in me the words,
Words to define death.

And I am wretched in the name of God,
Into the world, the first lonely man.

Bare at the foot of Hell, approaching with solemn song,
remembering the tombless heavens from which I was thrown…

…there was once a scarless skin where there is now my rotting flesh,
there was once a woundless soul where there is now my burdened spirit,
there was once a warless world, there is now strife in every life,
there was once a timeless time, there is now the hour of death…

…we don’t have art enough to portray the bitterness of God…

…and I screamed and I screamed and I screamed, alone in his almighty kingdom,
God turned away, Jesus wept, Satan smiled…

…and I wore my misery, and I bore my suffering,
kept all my regrets, and remembered all my rage…

(I am his soiled Kin)

…I was once a handsome man, many now are my scars,
(created I was in His bitter image, watched Him design the Flood)
I was once a beloved man, many now are my foes,
(Walked the ruins of Babel’s Tower, felt the impact of Lucifer’s fall)
I was once the only suffering man, many now suffer with me.

(Created I was in His bitter image)

Bitter! Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!
Bitter – at the fall of man,
Bitter – at the birth of Cain,
Bitter – at the Nephilim.

Upon the genesis of your madness,
Comes the exodus of your woes,
Numbering the doomed saints who honour your scroll.

Bitter! Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!
Bitter – with the spawn of Satan,
Bitter – at the city of Sodom,
Bitter – at the might of Egypt.

Led by hands sovereign,
Seven nations fell to war,
God is a gaunt old slave,
Only Satan mourns the brave.

Bitter – at Absalom’s revolt,
Bitter – at the Arabs and Moors,
Bitter – at Ahab’s black soul.

Warring lands are divined by flies,
That govern the stench of rotting generals,
Sit and watch, my beloved,
Sit and watch your God crawl…

Bitter! Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!
Bitter – at Jezebel’s charm,
Bitter – at Samson’s woe,
Bitter – at King Solomon’s whores.

And agreed the dreams of foulest men,
Eleven would will God’s blood to spill.

Bitter! Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!
Bitter – at Nebuchadnezzar’s ire,
Bitter – at Jonah’s flight,
Bitter – at Judas’ spite.

Bitter! Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!
Bitter – at the brave new world,
Bitter – because they forget,
Bitter – because you regret.

…and I am bitter too,
I am bitter at you,
I scream you my song,
the wrath of a lonely man…

…light without fault,
and the spark of virgin fire,
careful where you pray to go,
in Heaven awaits a bitter God!
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