1. At Wit’s End
Lyrics and music by Tom Ott. Arranged by EMPERDIA
Autumn: Tale I
It was a cold October evening
Days of rain have yet to stop
A towering monolith of ivory
The man stood atop
Valour and honour have left the land
What remains tugged at his heartstrings
With all virtue and common sense
Ceased all songs Minerva sings
Tarred, feathered, scorned, ostracized
From all civilisation
Evil is as evil does
And so was his intention
The ghosts of present, future and past
Run a marathon with human life
With his dreary company
Left no choice but to venture outside
Sight blurs through a crimson hue
Visions writhe, only one thing left to do
As they haunt
Splatter grey and black
Through time and all things betwixt
The great bog awaits
A wizard’s hut
To banish and silence the spirits
In the midst of the darkness
Beyond fauna and cobblestone
Man’s oldest dream
Quiet epitome on an oaken throne
Plunged into despair
Longing for retribution
His mind courts atrocities
One does not dare to mention
Love truly is a peculiar thing
One time it saves, then taints all immaculacies within
As its funeral is held on a sombre, rainy day
No birds will come, not even vultures seeking prey
The hand that feeds was gnawed to the bone
Society has lost its worth, he roams alone
The art of loss can be wisdom or a mistake
And when thought righteous, all can turn towards hate
Yet the leaves fall
He returned from the shack
Eyes as red as some scarlet bud
Now it’s time to pay the price
For the potion has done its part
Smothered thoughts align
To the greater good, his mind surrenders
The flame of lust is no more
Cause what time ignites will burn to a cinder
Mucus from the mouth
Blood drips from his hands
As he finally found his peace
He did as the spirits command
Loud gusts, glowing shadows
Back towards the sun, slouching to the moor
Surge of clarity through skin and marrow
Indeed, when it rains it pours
Yet the leaves fall
Silent and prudently cloaked
Death drags him to his abode
Who lives by the sword
Shall likewise die
A hero’s deed could not be harder to see
Ghost shall tempt
Bring history’s end
And alter the legacy one leaves
In the midst of the darkness
Fever can singe both wool and stone
Endless it seems
One can only reap what was sown
The truth can be cruel
Silence unnerving
The mirrors lie shattered here
The glass is lacerating
And the leaves fall
A brisk wind whistles a mellow tune
Sings of all that the night has eschewed
Soon the wailing lulls the spawns of spring
Crippling deviants, murdering all evil that dwelt within
Everything