Into The Painted Grey Lyrics - Marrow Of The Spirit - Agalloch

The jagged lines in these wooden hands 

Speak of a silent aeon below the depths 

Of an austere ebon tide 

For centuries kingdoms have risen 

Upon the ancient hands of a god 

Once severed for the world's birth 

A sacrifice to the storms of life 

Now darkness is thine sanctum 

Temples of magma stream across the grey 

The arc that transcends my iconic pride 

For I am not an ageless god, no, I am imprisoned by time 

These ancient palms shall once again be mine 

Hands... hands that lift the oceans 

To vertical depths 

Above the stars 

For when I die, 

The universe will die with me 

and all will be lost, forever gone 

Where am I? 

How long shall I suffer here? 

Forlorn in the cold neolithic embrace 

Forsaken deep in the sullen tide 

How long shall I suffer here? 

Perched on the cliffside gazing out into the brine 

My archaic beard pours downward and joins the feral sea 

I am the heritage; the quintessence of myth and legend 

The archetype of Pagan might and divinity 

Hands... hands that lift the oceans 

To vertical depths beyond the stars 

I gather a celestial blanket around these tired bones 

And finally slumber in clouds of ice 

These are my hands... 

...so it is done.