1. |
Poem of War
02:54
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The angels called Grigori were watchers of the way.
From their home in Heaven, they looked down on fields of grain
and for the earth's fair maidens, their hearts did swell and break.
They came down from their kingdom, many children here to make.
Their daughters and their sons we came to call the Nephilim,
but the wrath of the Almighty rose to put an end to them.
He said unto His angels, "you must destroy your seed.
These children go against My plan. Their deaths I do decree."
Many angels listened, compelled by Master's will,
and though their hearts were shattered, their children they did kill.
But upon that day, a brazen few defied the Lord's command,
and took up arms to save their young, but lost their final stand.
Cast down into darkness, there they'd spend eternity.
From lines and hearts all torn apart, the War of the Void broke free.
While the angels and their God were locked in bloody fray,
Another war was stirring between parents and their babes.
The rule of the mighty Titans had long been heaven's way.
Against this rule, the young Olympians began to strain.
The gods cast down their fathers and their mothers to the earth,
no more to walk in glory, but on jagged rock and dirt.
The rift has never healed between these elders and their kin.
The War of Heaven to this day has seen no truce, no end.
And still, beside these wars that raged in Heaven and in Void,
another storm was brewing, yet more balance near destroyed.
The struggle here was ripe between two houses of the Fae,
'twixt children of the seasons. Faerie's kingdom split in twain.
The Winter Court was ruled by she whose heart was made of ice,
who set her mind to rule year round, be coin or blood the price.
The Summer Queen and her bright folk refused to stand aside,
and so the War of Earth began, 'twixt summer sun and wintertide.
In Earth and Void and Heaven, all beings locked in war,
which immortal now will rise to rule forevermore?
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2. |
Winter's Ritual
03:06
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3. |
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We raise and raze our city like the strangest house of cards, a
ghost-breath mist of snow;
A ghost-breath mist of snow where no snow falls,
For we are Atlantis, and the town of Prester John.
Three weeks apart from never, we dance and do not fall.
We are Shangri-La.
History has dreamed of us. History has dreamed of this.
Those who know the way, many times return.
History has dreamed of us,
building up our city just to watch it burn.
We are Shangri-La.
BURN IT DOWN
We carry Goddess-dust upon our skin,
wherever we go, rising with bright feathers
in the Desert.
Blessed by the wind,
we dance, we thrive, we shimmer in the never-was.
We are Shangri-La.
Burn it down.
Relieving saddened sleep and fitful visions, we return.
We raise our city high, we watch our city burn.
We raise our city high to watch it burn.
Burn it down.
We are the mirage for those who dare to come and see.
The burning in our blood will set us free.
We are free.
We are Shangri-La.
BURN IT DOWN
We are Shangri-La.
LET IT GO
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4. |
Treachery is Afoot
04:19
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5. |
Let Me In
05:29
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6. |
Summon the Wild Hunt
01:45
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7. |
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8. |
Among the Heroes
02:33
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9. |
This is Madness
01:59
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10. |
Lady, We Must Flee
02:41
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11. |
We Were Angels Once
04:33
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12. |
In All That is Green
04:10
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13. |
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It is raining in the city,
calling demons from their doors,
and the gods are making ready
for a day of holy war.
I will sing of cities fallen
and of sinners gone before.
Let my broken blade redeem me.
Let our children weep no more.
We were angels once.
It is raining in the city
where the gods will go to war.
The sky is far too pretty,
calling demons to the door.
So I sing to wake the Fallen
and all the angels gone before.
Let my broken blade forgive me.
Let the sinners weep no more.
We were angels once.
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14. |
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This is S. J.'s first attempt at singing in Russian. Please forgive any mangling of sentence structure or pronunciation!
Roughly translated:
Hide from Koschei
The Firebird comes now
Prepare
Ride hard
Ride hard, my Ivan
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S. J. Tucker Perry, Arkansas
“Without our songs and stories, we are nothing.” S. J. Tucker has been captain of her own music career since 2004, when she left the workaday world behind to sing songs and change lives. Tucker is the voice of lore at the campfire and the sharp laughter of modern myth. With one hand anchored in her art and the other held out to us, she is songs and stories, community and wit. ... more
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