A Forest Of Stars
Beware the Sword You Cannot See

1. Drawing Down The Rain

I can hear them ranting.
Like a choir of angels, those cunts.

Not singing nor dancing here;
All eyes down for the casting.
Spell trough scraped dry.

Practising our sincerest sorrows;
All full faced to the grind of stone.

The drag of that inert through toil of chained wrought sinew.
Ragged faces turned up to the rain.
Staring down; drawing down the rain.
Staring down; drawing down the rain.
Drawing down the rain.
Drawing down.

All our ears are open / all our eyes are smiling
Gracelessly receiving empty threats of heaven.

As grist to and from these dark Satanic mills.
A barren wasteland dreamt through streets of prescription mist.
There is no attenuating this.
No attenuating this.

Holes in the heart of this city.

Drawing down the rain.

Heaven calling; calling through sewer-gratings.

2. Hive Mindless

Yeah, so my skull's just a coffin for the corpse of my brain.
Wriggling contents rattled awake by the driving rain.
Get the night watch on duty; come on lads - man the eyes.
Light this stricken beacon for some sign of the skies.


Whip up a frenzy to rattle the worms to!

Sit down here with me, squint that fish-eye lens
Raise a glass to the face of the past
He who Dares, well he doesn't always win.
Crescendo or something to usher the past in.

All a'jolt to the march half thought;
sparks upon sparks upon kindling, caught.

All a'limbs a'roll, a'howl;
roll these bones down, funerary style.

All who wonder. All a'twitch.
Ride the dreaded cliché switch.

We belong dead.

Yeah, so my skull's just a coffin for the corpse of my brain.
Wriggling contents rattled awake by the driving rain.
Get the night watch on duty; come on lads - man the eyes.
Light this stricken beacon for some sign of the skies.

Gather round, gather round, gasp the dust from my bones,
snort your derision, dance the jitter dance encrusted with bugs.
Listening in to your silence, distorting dial-tone / white noise waiting list.
Rolling these bones against the door to halt the grating whistling of the wind.

Grating whistling of the wind.

3. A Blaze Of Hammers

Fuck you and the worms you rode in on.

This double vision is dividing all thought.
If this cortex is remotely cerebral,
I'll eat the mind from under your hat.

Once in separation, all eyes all over the place.
These place. These place. These place.

Never quite sure whether I fear to tread.
Or just quite where to tread.

There is no product that can shine this condition;
though the colour running through these streets
is a shite to behold I'll tell you.

Ride the worms with me.

If all is soil of creation and all our every particle,
all intermingled is but a happy dust storm,
waiting to disappear up a willing god's nose
- then where should the faithful stand?
I suppose it's irrelevant to a grain of sand.

How are beings of pure sound to retune their nervous wreckage
A golden ratio of broken radios / twists, ticks and twitches
Into the frequency that tunes us all?

Universal note, no, no - ground black.
Distortion / Spirit contortion.

Attenuator twisted hard right. Spit-balled through the night.
All spirit full volume. Silence sold out to the man, man.

In flux with transcendence.
To rise above material putrescence?

A blaze of hammers from the skies
Race your corpse and aim heart high. Ride the worms with me.

4. Virtus Sola Invicta

Some of my favourite messiahs are dead.
You may perhaps be nervous that the endings are wearing thin.

So much grist for so many mills.
So little point in taking offence.

I've rolled with all the punches, and not even come up drunk.
Danced around the guiding lights, got perhaps a little lost in the dazzle of lamps.
Riding the head wind through Shangri-la, ha!
Aghast in Agharta, a shambolic frolic in Shamballah.

Careless questions clogging the five-pointed sink-holes you dance around.
Listless Heathen.
Whirled down drains world-weary.
The accused are great in number, though if you'd kind enough to line them up, I could find it in me to fire the shots.
Temples holed by misplaced homily.
Nails all lined up to support heads lording over spikes of infamy.

Your alter-ego can dig the pit.
The, once it's lined with silent bones, we can stir the ghosts around.
Perhaps take their powder as salve.
Though it'll perish your thoughts, I'll tell you.

Curiosity pushed you in, face first on top of all the others.
So let's roll the old worm ball down another cerebral hill,
Bone over wire racing the funeral pyre.

All wild eyed, world weary.
Twisted trees tearing the heart out of Eden.
Final resting places soiled as if on queue by those dragging their mean feet, enduring the wait before you.
Lightning breaks against the cortex.
Rolled into the hole to taste the old face down.
A twelve foot round-trip to your discredit.

Careless questions clogging the five-pointed sink-holes you dance around.
Listless Heathen.
Whirled down drains world-weary.
Down drains world-weary.

5. Proboscis Master Versus The Powdered Seraphs

Face down in the dust of their blasted utopia
razors scrape obtuse angels into manageable lines

eyes brimming with chemical repulse
nostrils crusted with manifold millennia of dried up mortification
...of spiritual fabrication.

inhaling the future, new orifices torn for those sexless angels.

Strength of Will hammered flat by biological circumstance
cells forming the biggest cell of all;
body of death, true burden.

My opiate naïve autumn putting a gleam to your sycophant summer like
so much make believe
Throw in your hands for the abyssal disco.
All the right shapes chucked into all the wrong holes.

All's about to snap / spring has sprung on the christ trap.
In fact, we'll do worse than put a match to your faces.
We'll have your writhing, you cunts. Do you hear?

All you monotheists born from the dust of deserts.
Myth piled upon myth / spiritual plague pit.
Seething maggot balls / fuel for future tombs
Twisting mass a'roil with turning worms.
Keep your maggots away from my soul.

I'm willing to risk an aneurysm if you'll just shut up and wait in line.

Just impulses piloting corpses through mistake upon farce;
Glance around for the shroud. How's your fitting? Dancer with ghosts.
Spinning so madly around.

Dancer with ghosts. Spinning so madly around.
Down amongst the dead.
All our graves walked all over.

6. Part I: Mindslide

Fear - here again, now I know - far away
All that this was - not at peace.
Watch the dawn, all is grey.
Images gone - here again;
Now I know - far away.
All of this was; not at peace.
Watched the dawn; all is grey.
The image is gone.

Not at peace - not me. Bitter end.
Not peace; descend; is gone.

I know. Once again. Adrift in mould.

7. Part II: Have You Got A Light, Boy?

Are you a little lost, robot? To terminate? Stay resident?
To dance drawn down with the shades whilst suffocating the dawn?

He said 'Let there be light'.

Oh, and there WAS light.

'Let there be light', he said.
And oh, how we laughed.

8. Part III: Perdurabo

When you breathe me / can you release me
From this death infested maze of cold?
One eye open; nine days hung against nine nights.
One eye open / one eye dark.

I will endure. All father.
Freight of the universe eye please guide me.
Nine days to hang against the dark here.
Spilled glistening across the gaoled way.
The new way. Crutches raised against the face of fear.

Can you see through the fast approaching dawn?
Find a way to beat the universal chessboard you miserable pawn?
Royal blew it.
Face down amongst it all / scraped from the boot of old king cold
just so much detritus for nowhere.

I am not the way.
Not the truth nor the light.
Caught up in the same barbs, we are.
No chemical solutions.
Building rainbow bridges / pain railed against the dark.

Old world, same disorder.

9. Part IV: An Automaton Adrift

Birthed across nowhere to ride the moon through phases.
Fazed in phases rolling nervous / lunar tick
patchwork cut and paste parchments to feed faith's guttering furnace.
A cracked clock face nervously ticking away the night.

Carbon back to carbon back to repetition upon repetition
Repeat. After me.

Are you a little lost, robot?
take my hand now,
let us remain astray.

No more invisible chains for this wolf, I can tell you.
Howling with the moon whilst riding its decline.
Waning not waxing, as ever.

Have you a penny to gird the carny man wasted among your secrets?
Tiring out cliché upon secret?

My hands are tied here; but the one mind is held by no head.
Heart leading that blind down bone-raw pathways.

Once we've devoured the sun and all is said and done,
no more paths to navigate; silence our cell mate
riding the whirling serpent across bleak skylines;

Watching as the final worm turns and turns and turns
...turns and turns.

There was light.

10. Part V: Lowly Worm

Children of the moon, sky high against the day.
A script half-written won't remind.
Rainbows jostled, skylines torn.
Witches burn beneath us.

So polish up your best shoes / walk in line beside sorrow - supplication lost behind.
Hitching our throats like tin cans behind this universal hearse.

Back against the wall. Rictus grin must bear it.
To take the pain and gatecrash my own wake.
To ride them all through the black time, Jormungandr.
To stare unblinking through hollow face of Death.

Whirling worlds, nucleus sun to disappear down frozen gullet of Fenris wolf.
Hammer waits to fall.

11. Part VI: Let There Be No Light

Smashed across the windscreen of the sky / that's all we've ever been
Lost amongst the fading stars / that's all we've ever been
Stood aghast as all the light blinks out / that's all we've ever been
Just dragging hidden chains of silence / all that's ever been.

Mr. T.S. Kettleburner — Vocals, Guitars
Mister Curse — Vocals
Katheryne, Queen of the Ghosts — Violin, Flute
The Gentleman — Keyboards, Percussion
Mr. Titus Lungbutter — Bass
Mr. John "The Resurrectionist" Bishop — Drums, Percussion
Mr William Wight-Barrow — Guitars

Lyrics in plain text format

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