Disinter - The Grieving City Tarterus

The Grieving City Tartarus

Of late the bards sing
Only of utter demise
And the peasant men are fondling
Gangrenous brotherly thighs

They were born of incest,
Were not you and I?
Within these walls of Tartarus where e'en
Gods are lain to die.

I fled my filthy place of birth
Where mine ancestors still lie.
I fled their miasmic tomb as I came of age
Lest with them I'd putrify.

I emerged from that flesh-strewn crypt savaged by a disease
That shall surely take my life
Into the dying Tartarian realms
Peopled by beings e'en more diseased than I.

So oft I dream myself there, at strange gallows
Built o'er a Lovecraftian hole
The coarse endless rope attached
Not to my neck but my soul.

An omen, yet still a dream
From whence I'm raped awake by a scream.

Jackals with grume-matted fur
Stumble through streets where wretches writhe in feces.
Almost, I pity each villager
Left torn by those beasts in forlorn scattered pieces.

Dead
As far as my eye it sees
Mauled bodies lie, diseased
As far as my eye it sees.

Exactly the same wounds,
The same bizarre doom.

And doomed I be beneath my disease.
Oh, I'm rankling in pain.
Disentombed. A mausoleum's child displeased,
His tears as rain on those slain.

... And the centuries pass like black burning wax....

(repeat chorus)

The hundredth day of my thousandth year alive
At the gallows of my dreams where I must hang, but shall I ever die?
Led there in chains and beaten with a thorned whip as well.
The gallowman is dead. Alas, I must hang myself.