Robert Johnson and his infamous Faustian deal made at the crossroads was a major inspiration for this work.
lyrics
Through the woods of the wicked you run tormented
Feel the breath of the dead on your neck fermented
See the blood on the path that you tread unknowing
Your mind astir as a hive in the darkness growing
Sink, despair- In mires of delusion
Scratch and tear- flesh penance of the wounded
Gasp for air- its thinning like the grains of
Sand in your hourglass.
All your life, it falls tonight
to the bay of hell hounds
Setting sun, the day is done on the
Black of your heart
Pact you made, the curse, the plague
The witches hand now marks your name
Run you may, all to your grave
For you can
Never stop this now.
Through the woods of the wicked sanity is fraying
A burning sense, filled with dread, inner light decaying
Smell the stench of the rot in your soul overtaking
Blackening all
Sink, despair- slow drowning in confusion
Scratch and tear- away, the hope you’re losing.
Gasp for air- its thinning like the grains of
Sand in your hourglass.
All your life, it falls tonight
to the bay of hell hounds
Setting sun, the day is done on the
Black of your heart
Pact you made, the curse, the plague
The witches hand now marks your name
Run you may, all to your grave
For you
Never stop this now.
marked for death, you know theres no escaping
like the plauge, the rabid fear is spreading
Through the woods of the wicked you run tormented
Feel the breath of the dead on your neck fermented
See the blood on the path that you tread unknowing
Your mind astir as a hive in the darkness growing
Sink, despair- In mires of delusion
Scratch and tear- flesh penance of the wounded
Gasp for air- its thinning like the grains of
Sand in your hourglass.
All your life, it falls tonight
to the bay of hell hounds
Setting sun, the day is done on the
Black of your heart
Pact you made, the curse, the plague
The witches hand now marks your name
Run you may, all to your grave
Cause all hope can
Never stop this now.
Through the woods of the wicked sanity is fraying
A burning sense, filled with dread, inner light decaying
Smell the stench of the rot in your soul overtaking
Blackening all
Sink, despair- slow drowning in confusion
Scratch and tear- away, the hope you’re losing.
Gasp for air- its thinning like the grains of
Sand in your hourglass.
All your life, it falls tonight
to the bay of hell hounds
Setting sun, the day is done on the
Black of your heart
Pact you made, the curse, the plague
The witches hand now marks your name
Run you may, all to your grave
Cause all hope can
Never stop this now.
The path to Old Boreas started in mid-2008 when Gargamel de la Morte and Justin Janusaitus began jamming and collaborating
with a slew of local musicians at Rampage in Bridgeport, CT. After 3 years of searching and great tribulation, the two found their new co-collaborators; Jon Gorton and Jay Northrop joined the team in mid-2011. The band currently resides in Trumbull, CT....more
