The Augur Calls Songtext
von Returning We Hear the Larks

Gnarled fingers from a rotted shroud
Calling a doom to all beheld
A cackling raven sings of death on the breeze
A misery endless and profound
Profound
Profound

The hour draws late on this veil of sorrow
The prophet embraces its void
He sees through the haze of corporeality
To all that will come to befall


Through augury he is at one with the crows
From vantage he speaks with their voice
The whistle of feathers as sharp as a shriek
The last sigh of breath from a corpse

Foul skies sing of foreboding
Cacophonous weeping on the wind
A corvine chorus singing death to the wretched
The reader casts his hand over all

Soaring on wings of woe
The augur beckons; time is low
He sees no present, past or nigh
Fixed eyes upon those to die

Soaring on wings of woe
The augur beckons; time is low
He sees no present, past or nigh
Fixed eyes upon those to die