The Giant Lyrics Album by Ahab
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Album Lyrics
1. Further South
I’m Arthur Gordon Pym
Or is he me?
Why is everything so grim?
Distress all I see
I’m not the victim,
I’m just the subconscious creator,
But if that’s the truth,
Why is there another hell after every grief?
Why do we always stumble into even deeper chasms,
Further down, further down, Further South?
Whither should I flee from myself?
Further down, further down, Further South?!
Whither should I flee from myself?
Further down, further down, Further South?!
Further down, further down,
Into oblivion …
2. Aeons Elapse
Strangely confused in my mind
Aeons elapsed in a blink of an eye
Slumber of utterly ravenous kind
Waters of forgetfulness: by and by …
Vast desire to drift off to sleep
Yet trembling at the thought of it
Lest there be some terrific dream
Like burning charcoal in a pit
Like hundredfold calamities
Most ghastly and ferocious
Like misery and monstrosities.
Abandoned and forlorn
Bed myself in waves of disquietude
Bed myself in a multitude of gloom
Bed myself in pernicious solitude
Bed myself in foreboding doom
I feel gray and leafless
My roots concealed in morass
Dreary water lies intense and black
Skeleton arms waving to and fro
Crying to the silent waters of mercy
In the shrill and piercing accents
Of the most acute agony and despair
Bed myself in waves of disquietude
Bed myself in a multitude of gloom
Bed myself in pernicious solitude
Bed myself in foreboding doom
3. Deliverance (Shouting at the Dead)
A large brig bearing down upon us
Stout man looking down at us
Leaning over the starboard bow
Smiling brilliantly white teeth glow
Thanks given to the Lord
For the unexpected glorious deliverance
There came wafting over the ocean
From the strange vessel a smell, a stench
Such as the whole world has no name for –
no concept of – hellish – utterly suffocating
Shall I ever forget the horror?
Ever remember the life we had?
Shouted to the dead, to the dead
4. Antarctica (The Polymorphess)
A strong current setting
With heavy gales and fog
Many a strange thing written
Down in the Captain’s log
Clouds of a snowy whiteness
Foreshadow immense fields of ice
South
Where the giant sleeps
Motionless, cold and proud
Eternal
Two worlds collide
Senses go numb
Sleeping
Dreamless aeons
And aeons
Will he ever
Dream again?
Antarctica the “Polymorphess”
Plays her game of bloody dice
She is so ragged and broken
Yet shatteringly adorable
Many words have been spoken
Her ways purely impassable
To the west: icebergs
Four hundred fathoms high
Our passage south is doubtful
O Father, hear our mournful sighs
This gigantic creature tossed
Its vast bulk across our thole board
Seizing one man – instantly lost
Peters plunged the blade and roared
Clouds of a snowy whiteness
Foreshadow immense fields of ice
Antarctica the “Polymorphess”
Plays her game of bloody dice
She’s so ragged and broken
Yet shatteringly adorable
Many words have been spoken
Her ways purely impassable
5. Fathoms Deep Below
No words to mark my anguish then
Of the most appalling awe
Carried into heart of men
Jane Guy wrecked in bloody blazes
All our gear to pieces torn
Confined we are in bizarre mazes
Lost, forgotten and forlorn
Fathoms deep below cognition
Fathoms deep beyond unknown
Fathoms deep beneath perdition
Our fate is carved in stone
Arcane glyphs from hollow earth
Trace our ways from birth to berth
Pervaded by desire
Soul now longs to fall
Escape the dread so dire
End it in a squall
Phantom voice now whispers
Screams within my ears
In bitter swoon I wish to leave
Rushing from my fears
Fathoms deep below
Doomwards let us row!
6. The Giant
Steering southwards
Tsalal we flee
Into shady
Towards the polar sea
Falling prey to the grotesque
Falling prey to absurdity
Blurring layers of gray
We scend through scales of white
Monochrome perpetuity
We scend through time and tide
Of truth we can’t catch sight
A tale too dark to light
Of blackness, of intensity,
of obscurity and glare,
of gloominess and brilliancy,
ob somberness and gleam,
of murkiness and luminance,
of ashes soil the snow
Silver blood pours from wounded skies
Drowning our anxiety
Black man, white beast in dismay cries
Phantasmagoric me
Vaporize in sheer reality
In blackness, in intensity,
in obscurity and glare,
in gloominess, in brilliancy
in somberness and gleam,
in murkiness and luminance,
in ashes soil the snow
I hear thee chant my name
Faint voice distant and dim
I prithee, please enfold me
Colossus pale and grim
I reach you from Nantucket
I’m Arthur Gordon Pym!
I’m Arthur Gordon Pym!
7. Time’s like Molten Lead
When ignorance is bliss
Our voices nothing but a sore hiss
We yearn for redemtion, for an end
Yet we keep heading on
While time`s expanding – running slow
Like streams of molten lead
In this moments of need
our memories will soon be gone
There`ll be no end
There`ll be no end
No end
No end
No end
No end
Father, is this the end?
The Giant – Youtube Video
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