Master's Murmur from Master's Murmur by Yellow Eyes

In the pine-filth of a lowland home
Master fills his heavy jug
And passes through the cornerstone
To slake in silence in the mud

The duchess shaking gold from gold
In quiet halls of garden gloom
Is swooning downward toward the sun
Fresh crocuses in Mesmer’s room
So nested with a silver yarn
A spiral in the pony’s flesh
She’s gliding up the country hill
And keening for the gilded bed

Chanting of a widow
Tall shadow on the plain
A tunnel through the ceiling
A teapot of remains

I fear the master’s murmur
Comes drifting down the flue
Aberrant void, hyaena heart
’Til springtime comes for you

• Black Metal
• Metal
• New York