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the Old Ones, from before
speak a tongue, no longer known

The New Gods took it,
so their hearths, they could grow

Echoing in the aethyr
countless tales, lost to the unknown

Our libraries filled,
the pyres of their dead God

But Now the time has come,
In the silence, they only whisper to some

If you listen you can hear them,
As the mind removes the veil

and their screaming whispers
become the voice in side

When the lights in the sky,
align with the stones on the earth,
in the land of forgotten tongues

Though the warriors have gone
the war still rages on
in the souls of those that lived
through the terror

a conflict that echoes endlessly
reinforcing the torment of the species

Battles waged between those that would take
and from who it is taken!

so grind the wheels of time,
it matters not if we live or die
in the lands
of forgotten

Measures of men, they come and go,
time counts lines in mortal's souls
men the fields they cleared
in the land of forgotten tongues

The new gods that came,
they too had been conquered

driven from the strangelands

never to find what they'd lost

for their ancestors also dwell

in the lands cut off from our world

by the dead god's destruction

In the land of forgotten tongues!

Look now to the hoarders of wealth
Societal tumor erupting

you will see the oxen that
drive this calamity forward

barbarians pickled in their finery
lance the boil, sacrifice the bull

let the blood come pouring forth
in the land of forgotten tongues

Now we all grope for what's been lost
as their world eclipses ours
turning the day to night
in the land of of forgotten tongues

When the lights in the sky,
return to their stones on the earth
In the land of forgotten Tongues

The old ones that will come
are the lights in the sky

they will return to the earth
to destroy the dead god's of man

raining their cleansing fire
just as it was written
in the tomes long forgotten
and burned by THEM

Do you hear them coming?
If you did, would you join them or flee?

The ones that are coming, speak a tongue
you will soon come to know

their many colored faces, painted
the way the old ones did

open the doors to the strangelands
just as the whispers commanded

now the tendrils of the past
will destroy or open your mind
in the land of forgotten tongues



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Periodeater Los Angeles, California

noise for the end, songs for beginning
guillotine dreams
and ancestor worship
whispers of the void manifested for those yet to come

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