Voran
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- Joined
- Oct 3, 2021
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This is a bit raw since I only just wrote it and the chords take some grip strength to play, but I couldn't resist showing it off
Lyrics:
High above the fangs and claws of the mountain
High in the mouth of the blood red sky
Up at the needle point of the black rock
Out where the great eagles swoop and glide
Late before dark in the crimson evening
The red faerie sings on the mountain's spine
She plucks at a lyre with elegant hands
She has emerald eyes and hair like fire
Ten strings she plucks with delicate fingers
Ten strings are crafted from silver wire
One she touches not, never, throughout the ages
One string is red metal, bright like fire
High on the black crags the mortal men trespass
Hunters in search of the mountain hare
One hears the siren song up at the zenith
Sheer height where only the winged ones dare
Such a harsh place, he says, black rock and cold air
Red maiden, why don't you come with me
I'll fetch you yellow gold, white diamond, rubellite
Glittering pearl from the bowels of the sea
No, sir, you don't understand, this is my heartland
Do not suggest such a thing, said she
Pure is the cold air and bright is the brilliant moon
Great are the eagles that fly with me...
Hot was his anger and cruel were his words
How could you say such a thing, said he
This is a vicious place, bleak black rock, dead air,
I should take you from here with me
Hot was her rage and quick were her fingers
'I came up here to delight and sing
You have but shattered the stillness, the beauty'
Then she reached for the one red string
'Oh how the world whirls and twists and roils
Oh how the night blurs to grey and green'
Harsh was the siren her fingers commanded
Shrill was the red string, an eagle's scream
And he fell to his death at the mouth of the mountain range
She was not his to take from the peak
Lyrics:
High above the fangs and claws of the mountain
High in the mouth of the blood red sky
Up at the needle point of the black rock
Out where the great eagles swoop and glide
Late before dark in the crimson evening
The red faerie sings on the mountain's spine
She plucks at a lyre with elegant hands
She has emerald eyes and hair like fire
Ten strings she plucks with delicate fingers
Ten strings are crafted from silver wire
One she touches not, never, throughout the ages
One string is red metal, bright like fire
High on the black crags the mortal men trespass
Hunters in search of the mountain hare
One hears the siren song up at the zenith
Sheer height where only the winged ones dare
Such a harsh place, he says, black rock and cold air
Red maiden, why don't you come with me
I'll fetch you yellow gold, white diamond, rubellite
Glittering pearl from the bowels of the sea
No, sir, you don't understand, this is my heartland
Do not suggest such a thing, said she
Pure is the cold air and bright is the brilliant moon
Great are the eagles that fly with me...
Hot was his anger and cruel were his words
How could you say such a thing, said he
This is a vicious place, bleak black rock, dead air,
I should take you from here with me
Hot was her rage and quick were her fingers
'I came up here to delight and sing
You have but shattered the stillness, the beauty'
Then she reached for the one red string
'Oh how the world whirls and twists and roils
Oh how the night blurs to grey and green'
Harsh was the siren her fingers commanded
Shrill was the red string, an eagle's scream
And he fell to his death at the mouth of the mountain range
She was not his to take from the peak
