Can you remember the words of our dying Mother?

All winters’ white...and wonderful

The third eye spies the greatest pain

In league with the cycle of life…feel the change



Her breath of frost upon the house of Man's beating heart

Sleep children sleep, such colours to be seen

Sanguine glaciers, the veins of our prelude

Fore this is where She lies. Mother, be our eyes...

Be our eyes…



As the icicles fall, moments of reverence

The invention of all, everything calls and every life-line ignites

The tears of Mother, everlasting season

But the phoenix empire expires…exhales…the curtain call to embers

Within us She lives, around us She's dying

Fading lights blacken, garden’s euphoric…cowering underworld order

The winds sing our dirge...This is where She lies

The veiling unveiled… Mother, our Mother beats down her ashen wings

Mother, be our eyes...



Grey and dripping the blood of Mother

Feel Her pain

Evolving, the shrouds She gathers

This is where She lies

In abstraction without colours

We die with the fall of the icicles...

Lost to pigment the pale paradise…



Swept in tow to the danse macabre

In hand to the cold grasp of time…of time

Broken shutters gape open wide

Breathing in hoarse whispers on high…



Cry…white-noise witch choir

Ice tears of our Mother



Pillars of monolith and ice, laced with lightning

Besieged by the void, the anti-matter of mind

Once were painted walls, now they preach parched skin petals

The freeze-frame tomb unfolds…for our Mother…our Mother



Cry…white-noise witch choir

Fall of the icicles…



Mother…Mother…Mother…Mother…