In Rites Of Passage - Ihsahn

The room fell still, submerged by time

The chatter drowned in liquid hours

If ever words were obsolete

The vibrant air would speak

There is conduct

Like honour among thieves

There is grace

Within the fearful eyes of those who seek

And we know

We know so well the endgame of our presence

Instinctively we throw ourselves

Into these rites of passage

The paths to where we might belong

Are riddles in a long forgotten tongue

And these sentiments we share…

Unspoken violence suspended in the air

This is how our eyes could never meet

Strangers by a monument of hope

In silent hours, you have known my name

But none of us could ever be the same

I could cut you open with a word

Let your blood run down into the soil

If only for a moment to be free

Complete with me

In rites of passage