Hiraeth
A barren shore, an empty kingdom Now seven feast in silent halls The wound is healed through death and death we reaped And the dead, they rise in mute prayers A feast of oblivion Scores and scores forgotten For years and years we slept Our own walls breached A journey for naught A bragging gest Where is the liar now? His deed is done Our own walls breached, while the wind carried us away Our own defeat, we consume in lavish cups An oath to avenge the first offence Across the sea, a hidden shame Empty the land, leave a gapping wound Where war was wrought through myths and treachery Here we unite With weapons drawn to sap our own destiny Two islands bound through bonds of blood Will waste away with a tide of spit A mouth spitting flies and lies His deed is done A feast of oblivion Scores and scores forgotten For years and years we slept Our own walls breached A journey for naught A bragging gest Where is the liar now? His deed is done Our own walls breached, while the wind carried us away Our own defeat, we consume in burning cups Our own heritage Empty lands and a new tale to be written
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
Teeth of the earth, reaching to the sky Swords forged from the oldest iron White-headed wise bards, servants of the gods Your feet bathed in dew, your crown embracing the Sun In your lap, I seek my own peace and wisdom In your ear I whisper about doubts and hopes My silent guides, lead me on your ways To the warming sun, far from myself In your green robes, I try to lose myself From your tears I drink to sooth my pains and toils I look for your wisdom, old as the world, wise and sad Teeth of the earth gnaw my bones, bare my soul Wan statues hewn by giants' hands Solid ghosts, ageless dreamers waiting For time and gods to pass, your realm eternal On your knees our ashes spread and bloom In your lap, I seek my own peace and wisdom In your ear I whisper about doubts and hopes My silent guides, lead me on your paths To the warming sun, far from myself Now the world is spent and ground to sand The tide is still, the river's mouth is parched Yet you remain as strong and proud Watching over our dying roots What have you seen my kings? What stories will you tell Forecoming gods and starving dogs, starving gods
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
Our banner sewn from fern and heather Dyed with the drizzle that fills our cups In rivers and lakes, we baptise our kin The cold bite of winter's teeth Our holy words, carved in wood and stone Hidden from your view Names we cherish, lore we teach and carry to Arawn Our church we built in forests and bogs Our gods made from clay and fog Who do you seek to heal with poison? Who do you seek to save? Carried by the wind Across the sea it spreads Our clovers bloom into three new Gods And we forget our mother's lore All leaves are turning red, another autumn dawns As we harvest the fields and share our bread Another tide turns, another age comes And new prayers replace our father's songs Silenced by your words, embraced by your light The crowing crow is silent, the bear asleep in his lair Winter has clad the land In warming homes we sew new banners Hiding north and west, starving for truth We still cradle fern, bogs and lakes Reshaping gods, rewriting books in halls of stone As sparrows nest in their home again The tide is rising and falling back
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
Our roots are torn and scorched Dead leaves rotting on salted ground Nothing grows yet here we stand Ghosts born from this land And we resist As hard as you may strike, we stand our ground Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us We shall preserve Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us You cannot take Names carved in stones many nights ago Weathered and withered, worn by your half-truths Shattered in the grass, like seeds sawn anew Ghosts born from pride Nothing will make us yield Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us We shall preserve Our heritage We stand our ground What was bestowed upon us You cannot take
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
In the West where Bran was killed In Caer Vandwil besieged Where the bard was slain I have been Before the King's grave Where waves beat the land I have been Where the ravens of battlefields cry I have been I was gleaming fire when I was caused to exist I was dust of the earth and grief could not reach me I was high wind, I was mist, on mountains seeking supplies of stags I was blossoms of trees on the face of the earth Soul, soul since I was made From the north to the west I have been Nor for death nor for end, nor for beginning Soul since I was made From the east to the south I have been Nor for death nor for end In the dark without a candle To my narrow abode To the limits assigned to me Before my judge I was high wind, I was mist, on mountains seeking supplies of stags I was blossoms of trees on the face of the earth Soul, soul since I was made Soul, soul since I was made From the north to the west I have been Soul since I was made
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
A grieving figure, rooted in the past Half gone, above the lake silently waiting Bathed in a cold morning light, yearning for home Forever caught between two worlds The king fades in the distance The king has departed his halls The king is sailed to greener lands The iron hart, draped in mystery Forever still, lost in his dreams The grieving heart, close to the water His thirst for home, he shall not quench The iron hart above the mist The empty heart, longing for home His crowned head, upon the surface Has left no image A shadow gone, a looming presence in the first snow Torn apart between hope and truth The king decays in his graceful grave Asleep forevermore Lost in his high repose above the clouds In the water dissolving In the flamming evening light Dying for home Where silence is met By blood and iron The king of dusk fades Waiting for dawn The king has forsaken his lands The king is sailed to greener lands The dying hart, clad in misery Forever mourning, lost in his past The bleeding heart, close to the skies His thirst for home, he has not quench The iron hart covered in snow The hungry heart, starving for home
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026
Tongues of fire on Idris flaring The throne is swaying above the hoary deep What do you see from there? What do you hear? Horns shatter our home O Arawn opens his arms for us Hear the dog bark and lead into the hunt Oh faithful Cwn, send me on my way To the land of ghosts and bitter regrets On Idris chair, we watch as duthaig burns We praise this torches, enlightening our ways But when they're out and all are left blind Arawn will judge and send us on our way Wolves and foxes gather upon this land to hunt! Your claws will haul the cowards from their lairs Preys, look into their eyes and praise! The savage beauty of history devouring our kin O Arawn opens his arms for us Hear the dog bark and lead into the hunt Oh faithful Cwn, send me on my way To the land of ghosts and bitter regrets On Idris chair, we watch as duthaig burns We praise this torches, enlightening our ways But when they're out and all are left blind Arawn will judge and send us on our way
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Aug 14, 2026