Sylvan - Esben and the Witch

A golden wreath of blazing leaves

Is curling from the smoking trees.

The fire snakes and sears its name,

Verdant greens in an orange haze.

Through blackend poles it waits and wends,

Ribbons weaving paths of flame.

Yellow ghosts with fervent rage,

In circles of an ancient hell.

Inside the woods, run the rivers.

Rippling like Tyger’s fur.

Rip their way through noble pines

That took so long to root and rise.

Deafening the timber falls,

The forest screams a thousand roars.

And all because a little spark

Was curious to break the calm.

A billowing of silver plumes,

Dances through the wooden ruins.

Memories in ashen cloud,

Hanging like a sullen gown.

And so they move serpentine,

Adding kindling to their pyres.

Watch them eat it all alive,

Swallowing in ways sublime.

In ways sublime.

A wild heat, I can see, I can feel.

Inside it all, as it falls, it’s beautiful.

The fallen sun, warms the skin, touches deep.

The crackling, a melting grin, of a burning world

Fiercely, blood streams into a sea,

Colour grows, all is noise, all is red.

The fallen sun, warms the skin, touches deep

The crackling, a melting grin, of a burning world.

Fiercely, blood streams into a sea,

Inside it all, as it falls, it’s beautiful.

The fallen sun, warms the skin, touches deep

The crackling, a melting grin, of a burning world.

Come with me to the place where the walls are weak.

Come with me to the place where the walls are weak.

Come with me to the place where the walls are weak.

Come with me to the place where the walls are weak.

Come with me to the place where the walls are weak.

Come with me!