Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Barghest O'whitby, artist - My Dying Bride. Date of issue: 07.11.2011
Song language: English
The Barghest O'whitby |
| I doubt I shall ever come back |
| Moving thin and wane, an old danger |
| A thorn am I with sunken back |
| I am the enemy of you, traitor |
| And the world cold. |
| I’m still on track |
| Your heart so cruel — mine is greater |
| It is the sky that bleeds my name |
| And in it’s breath my heart’s contained |
| I watched you fleeing from my ruin |
| A scent of blood is your undoing |
| Through oak that groan under the rain |
| Under my feet, the world arcane |
| In suffering I was always right |
| Within the silver moon tonight |
| From my lips the word is sung |
| And in this voice thy will be done |
| A great show of fear |
| Fear that I am near |
| And very far is dawn |
| 'Twas such a promising morn |
| Come, look back at me |
| I sense you on the breeze |
| The fall from your throne |
| This is all I need |
| Tell me what remains |
| A hunger within yourself? |
| So many miles before I sleep |
| Your truth is weak |
| Are those tiny rivers |
| Down your rosy cheek? |
| Laid out against the sky |
| In the corners of the night |
| Falling from my mouth |
| The words of punishment |
| I will make you see |
| Your traffic of misery |
| It is my sins that you deplore |
| Count them fair, for I have more |
| To my mouth I carry you |
| In crimson teeth, the breath I drew |
| I make you dust, as you were flesh |
| Honoured to see a performance in death |
| We have no time, no time at all |
| There’s empty rooms and shadowing halls |
| Fevering thoughts all hollow and old |
| Shivering veins now running cold |
| When dawns were young and woodland green |
| And silvery moons as often seen |
| In Hawsker dark is where you came |
| And tore the night asunder |
| My master at your knife to blame |
| And wove his eyes with thunder |
| To Nor' east, just along the coast |
| Your colleague of the scars |
| Takes pen to quote the pirates ghost |
| A lesson from those Tsars |
| Justice done with dark blood and scum |
| I’m torn toward the North |
| From Northern moors they know I’ll come |
| So Whitby is the source! |
| Where you would sit and wait for me |
| I arrive at Saltwick Bay |
| Ans so you shall taste my grief |
| Drawing the cut, I’m away |
| My form is bloody and it is true |
| It is the night I wear around me |
| From lies I grew a spit of untruth |
| I help the frail sky to its sleep |
| Nameless, I come and without end |
| Within the moor and without end |