My Desolate Sea

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Grand Harvest

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As the Bittern´s howl forlorn did ring, so came the bitter times of Spring
Wherein my guilt, I cry - a March of unforgiven scenes and dying dreams
Still my tears are in the rising tides of salt meltwater streams
To raise an end-time flood, a new deluge, to wash this world away

Yet how deep must my lake of tears be wept -
A desolate sea - to ease the ire of Your depths?
I was an unintended curse - my love a pestilence far worse
Now but an outworn sack of skin, full of emptiness within

A desolate sea of rue
Is all I am without You

With the Loon's red-throated cry did run, mushroom-clouds to wrong the Summer-sun
Wherein my filth, I lie - in hope to die, a dread July, in necromance
Still my piss is in the golden showers of cremating radiance
To fuel an earthly Purgatory, to burn - to burn my sin away

Embrace me, my desolate sea

My dyeing bride of powder-blue
My desolate sea is all I have
Without You...

Every day is a nail through the soul
Every night, an ever-colder black hole
Every morning is a mourning to dawn
Every evening a grieving outdrawn

Thus, if dawns Your day of living agony
Dive then into my desolate sea
Drink deep the void of sweet release
My deathly tears to bring you peace

My desolate sea
Is all that lives in me

Upon the Cormorant's timeworn mourning call, towered tall Forever Autumn's Fall
Wherein I fall towards the upraised knife - the end of griefs
Still my blood is in the eldritch red on Queen September's fallen leaves
To draw by witchcraft black the Final Storm, to blow Her pain away

But an open wound is my desolate sea

Yet how fierce must spring forth
The blood of my broken body
To ease the doom of Your court?

The Grail of Father Death I am become
Mother Tiamat's fallen Son
Like hers, my gift of sanctuary, a hidden sea, lives on
Though this broken shell shall soon be gone
So take this tear; a dream, writ in wounds, of me undone
All is Yours - You were my Sun

And then the Swansongs on Death's scythe decree, Everlasting Winter's night set free
Wherein I die to rise one final time, as the Eleventh Christ of January
Sterile, my seed is in the pale-white ice that blights the wheel of pain´s rebirth
For You, for me, for all humanity - to heal, to heal

Whatever that hurts

Forgive, fair Nymph of Eden, the Winter I am become

My Light You were
My Love
My Sun...

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