Caïna - I Know Thee of Old

Behind the earth, a dark meridian
Lines drawn, final parallax
Tendons pull and then relax
Fingers crawl towards the palm
A ripple, and a shudder
From the curdling sky to the bowels of the world
Whales are wrecked on starless beaches, the moon draws blood in the farthest reaches
Child bones knock in sunken wells, responding to a silent command
I know thee of old - fought and repelled in endless cold
I know thee of old - praised and gave succour in mud and in mould
As you made the world - a victim...
I sense your hands in the very atoms - these are the hands that pluck
Those are the chains that bind, ours are the fires that die
Snuffed by the folding night - theirs are the hands that pluck
Theirs are the lanterns that hang - lifeless in the dark
Theirs are the seven heads that go hooded in the light
Theirs are the seven heads that go hooded in the light
Behind our birth, daggers obsidian
Strings vibrate, worlds wane and wax: tendons pull and then relax
Fingers crawl towards the palm
Those furthest from danger are closest to harm
You have broken me, seen the dark in me
Long have I loved
I know thee of old
Long have I served
I know thee of old