Spectre At The Feast - Ihsahn

The practise of harmony

Is a delicate thing

The tension preceding

The bow and the string

It’s just how you phrase it

It’s not what you mean

The art of precision

Will keep your cuts clean

Until the day

You’re faced with a beast

That no one can tame

Until the day

You’re caught in a storm

Of what you became

Then, virtues and creed

Scatter like pearls from a chain

A chain

Blood on the ground

Washing away with the rain

The rain

Away with the rain

Peace of mind

Is a balancing act

Convenience dictates

What you add and subtract

A transient construct

Believe and deny

All truth is simple

Is that not doubly a lie?

Until the day

You’re faced with a beast

That no one can tame

Until the day

You’re caught in a storm

Of what you became

Virtues and creed

Scatter like pearls from a chain

A chain

Blood on the ground

Washing away with the rain

The rain

Away with the rain

The practise of harmony

Is a delicate thing

The tension preceding

The bow and the string

It’s just how you phrase it

It’s not what you mean

Is that not doubly a lie?

Virtues and creed

Scatter like pearls from a chain

(A chain) A chain

Blood on the ground

Washing away with the rain

(Falling, falling, falling)

The rain

Away (Falling, falling, falling)

With the rain

Away (Falling, falling, falling)

With the rain

Away (Falling, falling, falling)

With the rain