1. |
Dark Omen
01:54
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2. |
Sweet Melodies of Fury
06:10
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Sweet Melodies of Fury
The Flute :
Once again I am facing the battleground
As the sunrise lays down its first rays.
It is time for human blood to be spilled !
The Bard :
My fingers are forced to dance on the wood,
My lungs are emptied of their breath
Shall this malison ever end?
The Flute :
Never!
In the hands of the bard, I will rejoice
As the severed heads hit the ground.
My bloodlust shall never be fulfilled.
The Bard :
My fingers are forced to dance on the wood,
My lungs are emptied of their breath
Shall this malison ever end?
The Flute :
Never!
Out of an haunted wood I once was made.
And as your breath flows through my old brown corpse,
I sing a melody old of decades,
That hides the screams of wrath and tears of blood
Of a thousand men who died by the rope.
See how calm is that plain
Before the men cover the ground
With their guts
Into rivers of red
Under the sun!
The Storyteller :
Warriors fought until the night
And screams of pain ran through the bloodstained fields
And now, the flesh of the dead
Will feed the ravens 'til the dawn.
The Flute :
Violence and fears of the men
Have made my wooden heart tremble
Now my singing will fly to the stars !
The Bard :
My fingers are forced to dance on the wood,
My lungs are emptied of their breath
Shall this malison ever end?
The Flute :
Never!
The Storyteller :
And the ones who won the fight
Will head back to their homes with joy and pride
Tonight the flute of the bard
Will sing her gloomy song of hate!
The Flute :
Impatient to see some new blood flowing,
I tell by my windy sound the horrors of war.
As a leech I consume my owner’s breath
In order to avenge a thousand souls I once held.
My furious melody shall penetrate the hearts of men
As long as I travel through centuries.
United in me, the souls of the hanged
Are now the new hangmen for those who live.
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3. |
The Battle Bard
05:10
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The Battle Bard
The Bard :
Never had I wished to enter the troops of the king
And see with my own eyes the horrors of the battlefield.
Never raised as a soldier but taught to tell the tales,
I was forced to serve in the army as a battle bard.
Now bound to witness the clash of swords
And the warriors ripping off their precious lives
On the verdant grass,
On a hill by the officers, my duty is to see it all,
And to tell the folk the bravery and the might,
The memory of these men who soon will
Fall and fall and fall again
Under the baneful bites of blades,
Perish for the authority of a king,
Protect the realm or gain the lands.
In the melee they will turn into beasts
At the sound of a song of grief.
On and on the flute will cry
Until the brave soldiers all have died.
At the sound of the horns,
As the waves on the shores,
Wall of shields against the spears
Surged into an infernal din.
At this very moment
I heard them yell in my head.
The thousand souls in the flute
Were again craving for revenge.
They will fall and fall again
Under the baneful bites of blades,
Perish for the authority of a king,
Protect the realm or gain the lands.
In the melee they will turn into beasts
At the sound of a song of grief.
On and on the flute will cry
Until the brave soldiers all have died.
Scorching and slashing my mind,
Haunting souls slipped from the wood,
Took control of my blood and bones,
Forcing me to play and stare.
Under my demented fingers
A maleficent sound spread,
Flowing in the battlefield
To the ears of fighting warriors.
Under my helpless sight,
Evil madness stroke the fight.
No more enemy nor friend,
Only flesh and death.
A pit of insanity where all humanity
Was nothing anymore but hate and gore.
They will fall and fall again
Under the baneful bites of blades,
Perish for the authority of a king,
Protect the realm or gain the lands.
In the melee they will turn into beasts
At the sound of a song of grief.
On and on the flute will cry
Until the brave soldiers all have died.
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4. |
Bloodlust Invoked
05:07
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Bloodlust Invoked
The Soldier :
Today we feed our swords
With our enemies blood!
Today we die for the king
On the fields of honnor!
Like so many times we'll pierce the flesh
And crush the bones.
Used to war's horrors
We will kill with cold blood!
This is just an other fight
Where glory and loyalty prevail.
Through the crimson battlefield
We march with no fear.
With calm mind we'll strike
And we shall kill until they retreat.
So tonight the new bard and his flute
Will sing to our glory!
As the battle rages on
A windy sound appears through the screams.
A singing voice, enwraping my soul,
Setting ablaze my hate for mankind!
The sight of flowing fresh blood
Awoke in me the thoughts most dire.
Like a serpent charmed by a flute
I need to start a murderous dance.
The soul full of rage I won’t let
Any heart beat or throat untorn.
Even those who’ve always fought by my side
Also will perish by my hand.
Lacerate, sever, crush the skulls of everyone around
Is now my final deadly goal.
I shall slay every man still standing
Before another foolish one arrives and cut my head.
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5. |
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L'Homme est un loup pour l'Homme
Le Barde:
Depuis l'aube de son temps,
Dans sa haine,
L'Homme a fait couler son propre sang.
De ses mains, l'animal mutile ses enfants.
Il inventa la guerre
Pour étancher sa faim de cris et de viscères,
Pour mieux étriper son prochain,
Et faire le mal au nom du bien!
Chassant en meute dans ses forêts de pierre,
La bête humaine exhibe ses crocs de fer!
Elle occira ses semblables, brûlera leur chair
Et la gueule pleine de sang, hurlera, triste et fière!
Puis quand les autres meutes auront péri,
Elle dévorera ses propres membres à l'agonie!
L'Homme est un loup pour l'Homme
Égoïste et cruel,
Perverti par ses pairs,
Animé par le fiel.
Punissant la mort par la mort,
Jugeant par le sang,
Il brandit haut et fièrement,
La bannière de ses torts.
Deux armées s'avancent sur le champ de bataille.
Aujourd'hui les meutes s’entre-tueront.
Quand le fracas des fers retentira,
Le choeur des condamnés résonnera !
Entre mes doigts hurle cette malédiction,
Cette flûte de chêne d'une impiété sans nom.
Instrument de mort au sons ensorcelés,
Son cri est un appel aux loups ensommeillés.
Les hommes alors confiants et disciplinés
Verront la bête en eux les déchirer !
Les meutes ivres de sang dans un grand massacre se détruiront
Au chant de ceux qui furent pendus sans sommation.
L'Homme est un loup pour l'Homme,
Égoïste et cruel,
Perverti par ses pairs,
Animé par le fiel.
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6. |
War of the Pints
04:33
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War of the Pints
The Innkeeper :
In the tavern warm and calm,
On that foggy night,
Happened the most unusual fight
I have been given to see.
Every man came with a joyful mood,
Ordering tons of drink and food
As in the corner of the hall
Sat a lonesome musician.
So he began to play his flute
In the light of the fireplace.
Suddenly every man in the inn
Got up to sing and dance!
All the place was shouting loud
But still the woodwind did resound
Like a thousand voices
Chanting in unison!
But then an old drunken man threw his pint on the floor
As his youngest fellow called his wife a whore !
The old one replied by a spit on the younger's feet.
So the angry lad answered by a hit!
Soon all the mob gathered around the fighting fools,
Some encouraging the boy and others the old drunkard.
Insults shouted from both sides of the crowd.
Violence rose while the flute did wail her sound.
The inn turned into a battlefield
Where soldiers are drunk villagers
Armed with chairs and pints,
Fighting randomly their mates.
At the rhythm of the flute,
Beer and blood began to flow.
One by one the men did fall,
Dead or drunk.
Hidden behind the bar,
I descreetly looked at war
That for no reason had broken out
In this ordinary town.
Usualy peaceful and calm,
Yet blooddrunk and full of rage,
The citizens fought all the night
As long as they could stand up straight.
But one more thing obsessed my mind:
A sweet but gloomy woodwind sound
That all the night long had resound
In the inn and all around.
When the men could no longer stand,
As the quiet took back his place,
The musician near the fireplace,
Left the tarvern warm and calm.
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7. |
Ire of the Condemned
06:52
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Ire of the Condemned
An old sorcerer, long ago :
For eons, their scorn has slipped around the neck
Of the sinners, killers and innocents
Who were thought to disobey the divine laws of an absent god,
Under the branches of a baleful black oak.
Accused of sorcery and blasphemy, they judged me in the hall.
They pronounced my deadly fate .
''You'll die by the rope! The hangtree will be your final rest''
So be it! My vengeance will come soon!
Hear me souls of the hanged, calling you out with the rope at my neck.
Release your hate and unite as one in the boughs of our death.
When these jerks will die, we shall avenge in the salt of their eyes
As they kneel to death, slaying their kinfolks and friends at our cries.
As I approached the tree, I felt the lust of revenge
Of every man executed here before me.
May I join their souls sleeping in the oak.
My last ritual will allow us to make them pay for their scorn!
Hear me souls of the hanged, calling you out with the rope at my neck.
Release your hate and unite as one in the boughs of our death.
When these jerks will die, we shall avenge in the salt of their eyes
As they kneel to death, slaying their kinfolks and friends at our cries.
Obscure forces of hell! Permit the souls of the hanged to rise again from the dead!
And when the tree will be down, the Ire of the Condemned forever will resound!
May the circle be open yet, forever unbroken.
May the wrath of the condemned be forever in your wood.
Unholy meet and unholy part
And unholy meet again!
Take my soul as the price. And to fulfill the pact, order the carpenter
To carve, out of the oak, a woodwind to let us spread our revenge!
Hear me souls of the hanged, calling you out with the rope at my neck.
Release your hate and unite as one in the boughs of our death.
When these jerks will die, we shall avenge in the salt of their eyes
As they kneel to death, slaying their kinfolks and friends at our cries.
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8. |
Beside a Dying Fire
05:46
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Beside A Dying Fire
The Bard :
Listen, my fellow wanderers,
The nightmarish story of mine.
A telling of doom, the spell of a curse
That made from me a harald of death.
Far from here, in the deepest forest,
I found this flute unholy and vile
Haunted by a thousand souls with no rest.
The instrument took control of my hands.
Forced to bring the scourge in the land,
In peaceful towns as on the battlefield,
I saw brothers, elders and friends
Shed their blood, mangle their flesh.
The malison I found in the woods,
The oaken tool of a vengeance of yore
Possessed my will by its bewitching tone
But left my mind free to witness my deeds.
Tomorrow, for good, my friends
I'll make my final way.
I'll flee from this land with my burden in hands
And exile the curse away!
Sadly I'll leave the country I love.
As a martyr I will cross the roads and the sees
Before they blame me for the evil that scourges the land
And who would perish by the flames!
Why has my fate turned so black?
Why was I choosen to bear this curse?
How I wish I could free my mind
And live in peace forevermore...
With despair and madness to guide my way,
I must now preserve the realm from the spell
Cast by an evil servant of hell.
This bloodbath is my duty to end.
Tomorrow, for good, my friends
I'll make my final way.
I'll flee from this land with my burden in hands
And exile the curse away!
So my brave fellow wanderers,
Fall asleep, the night will be cold.
When you'll wake up with the rays of the sun,
I will be forever gone.
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9. |
Sailing to Unsung Havens
07:48
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Sailing To Unsung Havens
The Bard :
In the windy harbor I took a lonesome march
In order to find a crew to take me far from here.
For way too long have my dreadful curse
Sowed the havoc all over my beloved homeland.
Now I need to leave for the good of all,
To preserve them from my wooden burden,
The gruesome flute that spread death, madness and hate among men.
A band of seamen approached me firm and bold,
Said ''we heard about your power and your wish to leave.
We will take you away to unsung havens,
Where the cursed sound of your flute won't harm anymore.''
First I hesitated for these men looked pretty ruffianly and rude.
But who else than doubtful marines would take a poor bard across the seas?
So they lead me to their ship, and old boat grim and cracked.
As I stood on the deck, they sat the sails toward the setting sun!
They brought me to the hold,
The place for me to rest.
With smirks on their faces
They said ''your journey has comes to an end!''
With ropes and fishing nets
They trussed me up to the wooden salty floor,
Kicked me in the belly, stole my goods
And found the baleful oaken flute.
''Now your power is ours!''
Shouted the strongest, the woodwind in his hand.
''With this instrument of death
We'll finally succeed in piracy!''
How could I have been so silly...
The marines got back to the deck
I can hear the woodwind's cry
These fools are playing their own requiem!
Noises of fight arise!
The flute is spreading its doom.
The vilains will now perish
Killing each others with thirst for blood.
A furious storm prepares.
The deck is beeing painted in red.
Thunder and sreams are shouting upstairs.
A torrential rain drops in the hold.
A violent wave pierces the hull.
Salty water fills the boat.
Trying to escape my bonds,
A windy horrifying tone tortures my soul.
Then, silence!
No more screams in the tempest roar.
Like a raft on a river of blood,
The flute comes back to me!
Now all alone on a sinking wreck
I shall face the awful storm and the raging waves
I'll take the flute to the ocean's deeps
So no one will ever hear its sound again!
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Battle Tales Palézieux, Switzerland
Battle Tales is a young folk metal band from Switzerland. They are gathered to tell you grim and bloody tales in an epic and melodic way!
www.facebook.com/battletales
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