The Winter Songs

Tell me I'm not the only one who shifts musical gears during the Winter.

A bout of deep depression.
Can't seem to move it forward.
My lying eyes lie awake.
Not sure what I am after.
I never died before.
Can't live what happened yesterday.
I never stoned the crow, no.
Flip through endless stories.
A life of hand-written pain.
No one can share this hurt that is mine, mine, mine.
I never died before.
Can't be what happened yesterday.
I shouldn't stone the crow, no.
Ride on!
Same old city, same old pain.
No matter how I try,
No matter what I say,
I'm blamed, I'm shamed,
I'm judged unfairly.
So now I've died before.
It feels as bad as yesterday.
I never stoned the crow, no.
You too have died before.
It's more than less of yesterday.
I never stoned the crow, stoned the crow, no, no.

I saw these guys play for about 50 people at the Hard Rock Casino in Hollywood, Fl.

My old neighborhood.

Remember the "Button South"?

Do you think Phil was partly responsible for Dimebag's death?

Hanging out by the state line,
Turning holy water into wine
Drinkin' it down, oh

In The Shadows Of The Graveyards

Birthed From The Burning Womb
From The Dead Seas A Leader Is Born
The Birds Fall Dead From The Skies
Unholy Son Shall Rise

Let Me Roam In The Shadows Of The Graveyard
I Crunch The Wings Of Angels Beneath My Feet
Candlelight Dances Through The Darkness
Angels Aflame Scream To The Midnight Skies
In The Shadows Of The Graveyard

The Tongue Of The Serpent... Ablaze
Destroying All The Holy
Maggots Seek The Light Of God
Descending Angels Aflame

Dark Destiny Together
Rising Army From Darkness
Empty Black Souls Of Impure
At One With Shadows

The Blackened Seas Swallow The Heavens Whole
The Skies Are Consumed By Flames
The False God Has Arisen Through The Trinity

To Bring The Downfall Of God And Light

Great Steeds Trample Their Hallowed Bodies
Crushing The Virtues Of All That Beg For Forgiveness

Where Feasts Are Held In All Praise
Empires Rise To Fall
Porcelain Faces Crushed By Legions
A New Kingdom Born
Eternal Night To Reign Forever
From Ashes Of Desolate Faith
In The Sky The Kingdom Loathes
The Choirs Of The Damned Sounding

Churning The Wings To Flames
Igniting Our Armies Delight
A Ravens Call To Sadness
Journeys To Darkened Fortresses

The Lands Covered With Desecrated Dreams
Chanting Calls Of Freedom Sound
Dark Serenades Enshroud The Tombs
Retribution Is Now At Hand
Eye Of The Moon Illuminates
The Winds That Carry Their Cries
Crystal Seas Blows Through The Hallowed Skies
Destroyed Centuries

Come in out of the rain thou sayest - but thou ne'er step'st aside;
And I am trapp'd, I'm trapp'd
A distance there is...
None, save me and the bodkin - pitter-patter on the roof:
Behold! - 'tis not the rain; thence me it has to be -
I will not drink thy vintage wine, my dear;
Thou hast heed'd that I am of innocence, yet thou let'st thy lass into peril
Thou let'st me be parched;

My heart , My heart , My heart ,
My heart , My heart , My heart ,
My heart is of frailty, my pale skin is hued damask.
When thou thy tears hast hidden, "Come back!", thou sayest -
There I soon am to be - but how am I to run when my bones, my heart!
Thou hast me bereft! -
But run thou sayest; I run , I run ,I run ,
I run ,I run ,I run ,
I run ,I run ,I run ,
I run ,I run ,I run ,
I run ,I run ,I run ,

And there and then I behold that a time will come when I again dead will be.
Thou tell'st me to leave without delay -
I leave
I leave
I leave...
I leave with my bodkin and my tears in my hands;
Lo! - the shadows, the sky - descending;
So by a dint of smite I gait ere I run and melt together with dusk.

In my mind in which is this event,
But it seems as if naught is to change anyway?!

After all these years thou left'st me down in the emotional depths -
The sombre soaked velvet-drape is hung upon me,
Turning my feelings ,Turning my feelings away from our so ignorant world:
All the beautiful moments shared, deliberately push'd aside -
After all these years thou left'st me down in the emotional depths -
The sombre soaked velvet-drape is hung upon me,
Turning my feelings away from our so ignorant world:
All the beautiful moments shared, deliberately push'd aside -
A distance there is...
A distance there is...

Time is an abyss -
Profound as a thousand nights;
I sojourn my haste, I make respites
For what availeith this eager pace?
One step more naught to face,
Save the heirloom fatal kiss.

I rave no more 'gainst Time or Fate,
For lo! my own shall ne'er come to me,
Yet! - Who doth my future narrate?
Dim the lights - I cannot see!
Bring forth ye Shadow! -
With whom danceth thou?

Time hath stopp'd -
Yet for others ne'er halteth;
For me the Pages of Life do not turn,
Lo! - on the funeral pyre they burn.
The oh so eathing Velvet Darkness they fear -
Heed! - wherefore delve a burrow,
When in my arms "O! Come here"? -
I say, elsewhither is naught but sorrow!

For what deemest thou so dear thy blood
When through my veins it could flood? -
Bide to merry - make me unaptly;
And hence grant me the fell gift,
The gift of passing on the dark trick.
'Tis such a brazen act of erotic;
Trifle for thee, yet for me grandly thrift,
O! such an innocence depriv'd so hastily -

Alas, for what deemest thou so dear thy blood
When through my veins it will flood?

Whether He the quaint savant's power doth held I now not,
Albeit aetat a thousand stars' birth He is -
Zuoth I that for reasons to me oblivious
August of a granditude of servants is He held,
And by plastic consonantry e'en more servants to the host addéd are -
Pelf they are, dare I say!
Maugre His diurnal serphic deviltry
I say that deviltry - 'tis forsooth deviltry! -
Mind not this in scintillating shades clad is;
To claim the glore is He suffer'd.
"Grant me the fatlings", gouth He, "the fatter the better!",
And died they of starvation;
They are not slaughtering their fatlings -
They are slaughtering 'hemselves.
Sith I at time of yester the questions durst ask,
And dare I say this burthen weightful was,
Wrack of His machine - like motion was I naméd,
Tho' blind and fond the jesters rebuilt
The machine alike - yet whettéd and dight are its edges...

An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth -
Though hath it then caringly caress'd the Canvas of to-morrow?,
O Canvas! for thee I hold my tool - still! passionless it quivereth,
Minding not that my hands are more than apt;
My Muse,

Where is hidden
The blue-hu''d arch'neath the High Heaven's rich emblazonry,
The flowery meadow, embrac'd by the horizon - snowflak'd and aery mountains,
In which the barebreast'd maidens dance to the lay o' midsummer,
Aloft the distant lazy flapping of the doves in vainglore.

O Canvas!, wherefore canst thou these images not allow? -
I deem a projection of my Theatre they should be! -
Then, I challenge thee the wisdom of naysaying the yearns o' mine -
What is this unforseen that not enjoineth light shades to be skillfully paint'd?

The raven sky prey'd on by the snowfill'd, blustery clouds,
Unadorn'd the meadow - hunger driveth the wolf out of the wood,
The maidens chain'd and whipp'd within a dreary dungeon -
And, lo! 'twixt the wizen roses a mossy grave:
"The Devil is as Black as he Painteth" -
O Canvas! wherefore?...

"O soft embalmer of ye still midnight,
Allow me thee to adown,
Of any sort thou fancieth;
Each holdeth its own fancy, I say -
Yet the pleasure we partake in
Was caus'd by the fang'd grin,
Save!, do I for him anger hold?
Nay - I knew I was fey!"

"Had I what it taketh I would do;
I sense - I cannot sense,
I am - yet! I am not -
Once I kiss'd the image
Of the Seven Angels of Death..."

"Yet as thou so didst,
On my lips a kiss landéd,
And with the shadows blendéd
The tendermost silken mourn;
In which the light hidden is -
Yon Hell's brazen doors
Wrothfully it trieth to push."

"Then, lo! the Black Death,
Serpent-like 'twixt the breasts crept;
Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,
Together red tears they wept,
And pass'd the procession of dancers dead -
As in darkness were we lock'd in wed."

"Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath,
Together red tears we wept - in vain,
And pass'd the procession of dancers dead -
As in darkness were we lock'd in wed;
I kiss'd the Seven Angels of Death."

"And Hell open'd its doors,
Yet what was 'fore my eyes
But if not the brightest light."

"Yet what was 'fore my eyes
But if not the brightest light."

Hist! - The sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-stanc'd ballerina,
Her wee feel in an alacritic maelstrom-twirl,
And the dust-hurl with her tears blendeth - Egad! this quagmire;
Pasteth her unaptly apt feet to the stage;
Like the wither'd rose of the luciferous Eden
By the mummer'd masquerader espied vigilly and mockingly,
His behesting visage, tho' ruddily mummmer'd 'tis -
Embower'd and eddying oft and eft gloam by gloam,
Her sweetness ne'er cloy - further! further! -
His scratching and dallying hollow-heartéd eyes
Her breasts and vestal heart caress,
And like the dove and bird of prey leapeth she aerily,
Whileas the orchestra playeth on travailingly;
His one and sole swath
With the pizzicato'd ensemble blendeth -
And her umbral foetal scream -
As the song climaxeth
And slowly dieth
Away...