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Lemegeton & The Leaden Saviour

from To Heal a Broken Body by A Cunning Man

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lyrics

Where is this?
Hospice linens kiss, my body,
A sick bed?
Panic, So near death.

Right hand gone,
Withered as it shone,
Price, was paid,
Frail figure followed suit,
I fade and fade.

I weep and clutch, to deny such,
A dim lit room, I hate this room,
Faint wish of leaving soon.

Physicians come and go,
"Please sir you must accept there is no answer",
An illness so untold.

Pray to every title known,
(It's not time for that, it’s not time for that)
Raise a call to empty thrones,
Have I been an ardent fool?
(It's not time for that, it’s not time for that)
Baptised in a bone-dry pool.

Should I brace this broken body, and toil to change my fate?
Or perhaps just accept my lot: exhausted stalemate.

Dust on my breath,
A weak resolve does gather,
This can't be all that's left,
Climb from the bed,
The will is all that matters,
My senses now refreshed.

Calls draw near,
Murmurs become clear,
"Seek the silver".

Should I brace this broken body, and toil to change my fate?
Or perhaps just accept my lot: exhausted stalemate,
Can I trace a path less murky, a foil against lost faith?
Or maybe damn every sacred name, be it humble, holy or great.

Still the sleekit one questions the necessity of that peculiar sacrifice,
With a reluctant sigh his weak resolve gathers, battered body brittle but braced,
He of withered worth, leaden frame and a doubting mind, hear these words:
Abandon now the sluggard's brand, push past the dust. The malady makes the man!

Should I brace this broken body, and toil to change my fate?
Or perhaps just accept my lot: exhausted stalemate,
Or maybe damn every sacred name, be it humble, holy or great.

credits

from To Heal a Broken Body, released February 23, 2018

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A Cunning Man Scotland, UK

Two man metal project with a strong Scottish accent.

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