She roars! Omens to her game. Darkest Mare, calling to her prey.
This drape of silver and bronze veils the curse in your bones, agog for bereavement. An end I deny!
I descend into the wood, a stricken valley the sun dares not touch. Eyes meet. My fear, she thinks me weak – true, just the sight steals warmth from blood.
She roars! Omens to her game. Darkest Mare, calling to her prey.
She leaves the perilous path in dust. She cleaves the soul from the withering husk.
Equa mortuorum – Mare of the Dead – and the dead must remain. Shadow tramples the world under hoof and gavel's pain. Mare of the Dead – and the dead must remain.
You've probably heard that our fellow Columbus-ite, Ben Sharp, is a goddamned genius. We challenge you to dislike this, our favorite of his albums. Sleepers Awake
Half our band's (the Chris's) other band, with less vocals and more doom. Seriously good stuff, but don't just take our biased word for it. Think for yourself, listen to White Wolves. Sleepers Awake