Panopticon
The Rime of Memory
1. I erindringens høstlige dysterhet
2. Winter's Ghost
Part I: Hiraeth: (Instrumental)
Part II: Hjemløs
Memory in dissipation, like the hoarfrost’s delicate cling…
The supplemental envelopment of winter’s prosthetic embrace.
In exchange for the fire’s warmth, I delve into memory...
Nostalgia replaced hope as reality replaces dreams.
The spruce, snow weighted,
As my troubled heart succumbs to burden.
The saplings crushed beneath the snow fall as my recollection is obscuring.
In white wash I’m saturated and satiated by its allure
The nothingness drowns out the loss known before this frozen world.
This dormant slumber
In peace and waiting
Laid in repose
For breath abating.
In stillness seen
And frigid fingers,
where aspiration is frozen
And memory lingers...
Crystals cling upon wintering larch.
Roots encased in a tomb of snow…
The shrouds of ice in a world of stasis,
Where green has faded and will not grow.
The haunting spectres of life and love lost break the crypt of the past,
To roam free the frozen world, to roam free at last...
3. Cedar Skeletons
All that remains is grey.
What grew once sacred and plentiful beneath the sun
withers in decay,
only preserved by the cyclical freezing of the northern winter...
Its beauty long engulfed in the fade,
Wilting, wilting, but an echo, all that remains:
The lightless skeleton of hope’s glimmer.
The sheen of ice, it’s apocryphal shimmer.
This life fades, but the flesh persists.
Enjoyment stripped by the passing of time.
Suffering banality for an irreconcilable end...
The wilt of foliage and the melting of rime.
As the heart beats fast and the fear sets in,
all is still beneath the winter sun.
As nauthiz is carved into flesh and bone
What exists in the soul speaks when alone.
As the heart beat slows and hypothermia sets in,
all is still beneath the winter sun.
As isa is carved into flesh and ice
what exists in the heart will come to the light.
“Nuestra patética existencia
agrega demasiado peso.
Lo que una vez fue sagrado.
Ahora no tiene verdades.
Nuestra residencia temporal
Causando daño permanente.
El corazón de la tierra se desangra
solo quedan eskeletos”
(lyrical contribution and guest vocal by Victor Sanchez)
The only constant is change
The gears continue to grind with the hand of man’s aid.
Only we are to blame
for the treasure we bury and lose,
for pride painted over the shame...
...And the mire’s death is suspended til the coming of spring,
....And the song bird flies south and continues to sing,
....And the warmth resumes the rot that we know it will bring,
The horror is knowing our endeavors will not amount to a thing.
4. An Autumn Storm
Dragging an urn full of snow with me on every path I tread.
The stench of decaying memory
and repeating thoughts of dread…
The rot of reminiscence is just like the picking of a scab.
The acid in the vomit bares no resemblance
to the meal that was had.
On pathways storm obscured
Where orange blaze peers through,
The pleasure of a taste of poison
before illness must be endured.
Thumbing through memories of times long passed.
The sweetness long faded, only bitterness will last.
“Kalde tårer faller ned fra himmelen en vinternatt.
de skjaerer inn i bevisstheten som glasskår
sårene vil alltid forbli åpne med den smertefulle sannheten
at vårt bilde av paradis er knust.”
(Poem written and performed by Patrick Næss)
These memories thought immortalized,
melt into disfigured visages of the truth.
The mad prophet’s scripture forever lacking proof.
The ever changing world unsure of all we’ll lose.
The autumn snow brings no solace in a world
we know is doomed.
Nothing cold can stay.
In the world of rot and decay.
The end times underway.
Nothing cold can stay.
5. Enduring the Snow Drought
Any distraction will do.
Anything to ride out this gloom.
The lugubrious weight of the present.
The cumbersome pains of the past.
Precipitous symphony,
of crystals falling:
So much louder in memory
than when it’s trumpets were calling.
In hues ever vibrant, recollection lies to the eye,
through the mind’s romanticism
and the ever running passage of time.
The allure of the unknown,
as goddesses depicted in splendor,
in actuality may be more haggard than the brush stroke’s render.
By truth and horror none shall be spared.
Left to embrace the phantoms of those who once cared.
So if it is true the sun also rises in hell;
I’ll applaud the hope in this world and keep none for myself.
Forgetting the pain,
the fear and the doubt.
beseeching grey skies,
enduring the snow drought.
6. The Blue Against the White
The nostalgia in waiting.
The yearning relief.
In blanketed branches,
after skies unleash…
and winds blow through
rendering skies ever blue…
Glistening frost light.
Transitory, shining bright.
Is this so sacred because we can’t keep it?
Do we only love because we will lose?
If life was ever lasting would we need it?
Is loss what we would choose?
Autumn’s beauty withers to grey;
Does that make it more desired?
Winter’s tranquility melts away
Either by spring or by fire.
Either by ice or by rot.
This life is all we have got.
We have nothing else to lose,
as we make a home of our tomb.
For all love we deny,
for all the poison we imbibe.
For all memories lost to time
Another part of us dies.
Running ever slower now that a limb is gone.
Blind eyes still perceive the beauty of the dawn.
Beyond all sunsets and into the dark of loss,
The snow greyed and the sky dimmed for it’s cost.
The phantom limb heart for the soul weathered numb,
The celluloid dances for the
dead and succumbed.
The symphony plays forever on into the abyss.
The messages screaming to those who will never hear this...
Lyrics in plain text format
