Sunken Lungs - Primordial

What breath it takes the tide

Is it from your sunken hollow lungs

That the bones may gather at the depths

An organ for the ghastly of songs

A vessel for the damned adrift on a sunless sea

On a sunless sea

Whisper on white tongues of foam

To me of days I’ve lost to the dreadful night

And the heart of darkness that draws its children so tight

And sets them adrift

Haggard and bent crows keen to the crone

What do the drowned say?

Who man our ships as ghosts

And bend our knees to pray

For a silent and a watery, a watery grave

We bend our knees to pray

What breath it takes the tide

Is it sunken from your hollow lungs

That the bones may gather

At the depths down below

An organ for the ghastly of songs

A vessel for the damned

Every pilgrim to the depths

Follows a

To meet the masters below

Hollowed by time

Wild horses unbound on white foam

We bend our knees to pray

For silent and watery grave