My Arms, Your Hearse
A morning in magenta, the petals fed from the dew. She held her
breath for a moment, to pause off the stream. Still clinging to vast,
old memories. And I would marvel at her beauty, playing through the
rain. The coffin is beautifully engraved. Stained by soil, symbols of
death. All of which are stared upon, with porcelain eyes it seems.
Some spoke, and it was my turn to go. In death entwined, I could not
believe. But it hangs around my neck. A soft breeze passed me by,
somewhat warmer for a second. I knew it was the coming of spring,
It was me, peering through the looking-glass. Beyond the embrace of
Christ. Like the secret face within the tapestry. Like a bird of prey
over the crest. And she was swathed in sorrow, as if born within its
mask. Her candlelight snuffed, the icon smiled. Emptiness followed by
her wake. I could clasp her in undying love. Within ghostlike rapture
the final word was mine. She faced me in awe. 'twas a token of ebony
colour. Embodied in faint vapour. Wandering through April's fire.
Compelled to grasp and to hold the one that was you. I will endure,
hide away. I would outrun the scythe, glaring with failure. It is a
mere destiny I thought, a threshold I had crossed before. The rain
was waving goodbye, and when the night came the forest folded its
branches around me. Something passed by, and I went into a dream. She
laughing and weeping at once: "take me away". I don't know how or
why, I'll never know
Red sun rising somewhere through the dense fog. The portrait of the
jaded dawn who had seen it all before. This day wept on my shoulders.
Still the same as yesterday. This path seems endless, body is numb.
The soul has lost its flame. Walking in familiar traces to find my
way back home. So there I was. Within the sobriety of the immortals.
A semblance of supernatural winds passing through, The garden sighs,
flowers die. The gate was closed that day, but I was bound to carry
on. She could not see me through the windows. In dismay, strangest
twist upon her lips. Graven face, she said my name. Once inside I
heard whispers in the parlour. The gilded faces grin, aware of my
final demise. And I cried, I knew she had lied. Her obsession had
died, it had died. When can I take you from this place? When is the
word but a sigh? When is death our lone beholder? When do we walk the
final steps? When can we scream instead of whisper? When is the new
beginning, the end of this sad
Our abode 'mongst the stars is waiting, long enough for our last
breath of life. You stare at nothing, right through me, at times
resembling the Devil's concubine. And me, I am the idol that would
long to caress our eyes until they would open no more. I would
comfort you if I only could, but as we all know by now...I am just
thin air. Unaware as you are of my presence, you are losing yourself.
THE AMEN CORNER.
White summer. So far I have gone to see you again. Hiding your face
in the palm of your hands. Finding solace in the words I do despise.
You snatch at every sound. And even though you believe that I am
shackled within death, memories are tainted with paleness.
Crestfallen still. Those eyes...empty like a barren well. It was the
only task I would undertake. To reap the harvest that was mine. The
seed that had sprung into a florid meadow, and left me helpless in
your embrace. The bond we never spoke of, once stark and enticing,
now slowly smoldering to dust. The celestial touch, from grey to
black. A fathomless void enclosing. Unwritten secrets beneath the
cobwebs. I can not endure. And so I rose from my sleep. The moon
turned away its face. Overture of the long, black night begins...
something you said: "Eerie circles upon the waters". Until now we
have shared the same aura. My ashes within your hands. My breath in
the sepulchral mound. You know that your night is my day. The final
spark that blew life into me, the
DEMON OF THE FALL.
Silent dance with death. Everything is lost. Torn by the arrival of
Autumn. The blink of an eye, you know it's me. You keep the dagger
close at hand. And you saw nothing. False love turned to pure hate.
The wind cried a lamentation before merging with the grey. Demon of
the fall. Gasping for another breath. She rose, screaming at closed
doors. Seductive faint mist forging through the cracks in the wall.
I shant resist. In tears for all of eternity. She turned around and
faced me for the first time. Run away, run away. Just one second, and
I was left with nothing. Her fragrance still pulsating through damp
air. That day came to an end. And she had lost in me, her
Deserted again. You speak to me through the shadows. Walking in
closed rooms, using cold words. Captured by the night. The yearning
escapes from my embrace. Strange silhouettes whisper your thoughts,
scream your sadness. And they all turned away, unable to face more of
this death. Credence in my word. Written in dust, tainted by
memories. I confess my hope, recognize my loneliness. Your laughter
weeps the truth. Push me into corners. Confirming the epitaph of my
soul and displaying the once unknown
And as they say, grief is only able to possess. The rotting body clad
in ancient clothes is left behind with a wave of the hand. I have
gone away. The bed is cold and empty. Trees bend their boughs toward
the earth. And nighttime birds float as black faces. It was the hand
reaching out through the mirror. Unknown and scarred by life...the
luring eyes, you had never seen. You have nothing more to find. You
have nothing more to loose. The cold season drifts over the land.
They huddle in the brown corners. Some would settle for less. The
castles were all empty, asleep. Long awaiting their king. Beckoning
round the bend. Amidst the forest one would hear that I had been
there. Draped within a fate I could not change, and always welcoming
There it was. The final destiny. A sunrise that never came, still the
night lamp that never faded away. Farewell was the word, and the
afterglow was the brave morning. Rising and telling everyone about
the beauty of its PROLOGUE.
Lyrics in plain text format
MY ARMS, YOUR HEARSE, the third observation by Opeth, was absorbed by the electronical devices at Fredman studios,
and captured on tape by Frederik Nordström, Anders Frid&eaigu;n and Opeth during August/September 1997
Mastered at The Mastering Room by Göran Finnberg and the somewhat distant Opeth ghosts.
All sounds and words conveyed and performed by Opeth,
with the exception of the Hammond organ in the Epilogue, performed by Fredrik Nordström.
Graphics digitally cleaned by Tom Martinsen in consulation with Opeth at his mansion.
Gentlemen as we are, we bow our heads to those who have worked hard in favour of this volume, and also
to those kind enough to purchase it.
Opeth would like to dedicate this volume to Mr. Lee Barrett.
I didn't really expect a lot of this album, to be honest. Morningrise was pretty cool, but not really convenient black metal, and most bands tend to step away even further from the black metal after an album like that. How mistaken I was, because My Arms Your Hearse only is faster and blacker than their previous albums. The songs are now more structured, they don't just go on and on, and personally I think this is the best album Opeth has yet made.
Rating: 7.5 out of 10