You Were But A Ghost In My Arms Lyrics - The Mantle - Agalloch

Like snowfall, you cry a silent storm 

Your tears paint rivers on this oaken wall. . . 

Amber nectar, misery ichor 

. . .cascading in streams of hallowed form 

For each stain, a forsaken shadow 

You are the lugubrious spirit 

Etched in the oak of wonder 

You are the sullen voice and silent storm 

Each night I lay 

Awakened by her shivering silent voice 

From the shapes in the corridor walls. 

It pierces the solitude like that of a distant scream 

In the pitch-black forest of my delusion. . . 

With each passing day, a deeper grave. . . 

"Why did you leave me to die?" 

"Why did you abandon me?" 

"Why did you walk away and leave me bitterly yearning?" 

Her haunting, contorted despair was etched into the wood's grain 

Though fire rages within me, no fire burns fiercer than her desire 

The shape whispers my name. . . 

I damn this oak! 

I damn her sorrow! 

I damn these oaken corridors 

That bear the ghosts of those I've thrown away! 

Though tempted I am to caress her texture divine 

And taste her pain sweet, sweet like brandy wine; 

I must burn these halls, these corridors 

And silence her shrill, tormenting voice 

. . .forever. . . 

Like snowfall, you cried a silent storm 

No tears stain this dust in my hands 

But from this ashen gray, her voice still 

Whispers my name. . . 

You were the lugubrious spirit 

Who haunted the oak of wonder 

You were the geist that warned this frozen silent storm 

You were but a ghost in my arms