Sound is a fickle thing
How to describe it—this formless thing?
It winds itself deep into our minds
A formless whisper, a threat fate to us may bring Sound comes in many unique forms
A soothing harmony or the roar of thunderous storms?
Some enrapture us, cradle us, or terrify us utterly
Yet none can deny that it often can come at us in swarms Swarming with the intensity of bees, buzzing like wasps enraged
Sound can torment as easily as it can engage
Yet it remains, the ability to hear a gift from the Creator up above
Sound will be with us until the end of The Age This is why these Stone Rings bother me so
Their image, graven into my mind, follow me wherever I go
The Rings' choir echoes within me unceasing, even when I'm not there
Ringing, moaning, shrieking as I go to and fro Is this a curse? A dread that will follow me until the end?
T'is such an unholy sound, its teeth gnash and rend
I fear my sanity shall soon leave me
It's droning envoking cries of the dead, an empty message it does send Why did its maker craft such a horrible monument?
What drove them to erect such a unnerving moment?
Stone seems to scream at time itself
Maybe even they didn't know what it meant? Curse that folly's never-ending wail!
May it someday be destroyed, either by quake or thunderous hail!
I dream of one day seeing it in myriad pieces
But, alas, it seems to be protected by some zirconmine mail Nothing will destroy those accursed stone rings
No matter what peasant, artist, king, or lord brings
This folly will remain, standing against the rain
And forever play their discordant strings And I will fade away
My sanity seeping away, come what may
There's nothing I can do, the droning will never leave my mind
All I can do is wait for that unknown day.
How to describe it—this formless thing?
It winds itself deep into our minds
A formless whisper, a threat fate to us may bring Sound comes in many unique forms
A soothing harmony or the roar of thunderous storms?
Some enrapture us, cradle us, or terrify us utterly
Yet none can deny that it often can come at us in swarms Swarming with the intensity of bees, buzzing like wasps enraged
Sound can torment as easily as it can engage
Yet it remains, the ability to hear a gift from the Creator up above
Sound will be with us until the end of The Age This is why these Stone Rings bother me so
Their image, graven into my mind, follow me wherever I go
The Rings' choir echoes within me unceasing, even when I'm not there
Ringing, moaning, shrieking as I go to and fro Is this a curse? A dread that will follow me until the end?
T'is such an unholy sound, its teeth gnash and rend
I fear my sanity shall soon leave me
It's droning envoking cries of the dead, an empty message it does send Why did its maker craft such a horrible monument?
What drove them to erect such a unnerving moment?
Stone seems to scream at time itself
Maybe even they didn't know what it meant? Curse that folly's never-ending wail!
May it someday be destroyed, either by quake or thunderous hail!
I dream of one day seeing it in myriad pieces
But, alas, it seems to be protected by some zirconmine mail Nothing will destroy those accursed stone rings
No matter what peasant, artist, king, or lord brings
This folly will remain, standing against the rain
And forever play their discordant strings And I will fade away
My sanity seeping away, come what may
There's nothing I can do, the droning will never leave my mind
All I can do is wait for that unknown day.
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