They say the noonday sun burned a brilliant gold
On crystal palaces towering high
They sing of empires dancing for their queens of old
Whose soldier-scholars conquered the sky
All I see is the ember of a dying sun
All I know are these ruined mounds of the dead
All I hear are the strains of songs no longer sung
All I dream are words in books that can't be read
Now when I cast my mind back to early days,
A distant time not so long ago
All life seemed lit by warmer and brighter rays
And greater deeds were done in their amber glow
All I see is the ember of a dying sun
All I know are these ruined mounds of the dead
All I hear are the strains of songs no longer sung
All I dream are words in books that can't be read
Worn away, as by raindrops carving a canyon
Grain by grain, all our works are borne to the sea
Stars will fade, and the days dissolve into darkness
Cold and grey, nothing left to do or be
One debt we pay, everyone, the same:
the price of birth
Though I will die in the dark
I lived,
The last of my kind
On the sunlit earth
All I dream is the dying sun
All I hear...
All I know...
All I see...
All I feel… is the cold, dead sun
Allow me to copy Pagan Altar's third album title to describe not only III:Pentecost but the whole discography of Wytch Hazel so far: well, yes, it's Magical and Mythical!!! A must-have for the lovers of 70's hard sound revival. BoneWalker
Supplementing sasscore insanity with bolstered vocals and pop-punk songcraft, the California band are kicking ass and breaking boundaries. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 21, 2024