Thorns of Vespertine - Ashen Heart

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"Mine heart was true, yet thine was cold –
So I return, not young, but old."

From the cliff’s edge to the grave’s embrace… and beyond.
Thorns of Vespertine summon forth another funereal elegy with “Ashen Heart”, a tragic tale of love deceiv’d, of bones shatter’d, and of a revenant's cold revenge.

For those who walk in shadow, who sip from sorrow’s chalice, and who find beauty in the dirge – this song is thine.

• Full lyrics inscrib’d below
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#ThornsOfVespertine #AshenHeart #GothicMetal
- - -
There was a man, most constant in his suit,
Who lov’d a maid fair-spoken, proud, and mute.
She feignèd fondness, lips with honey drest,
Yet lov’d but self – and held the rest in jest.

When bored of him, she to another ran,
And left her fool a broken, raving man.
From clifftop high he cast his mortal frame,
And down he fell, with bones and heart aflame.

Upon the stones his visage mangl’d lay,
His limbs askew, his breath long flown away.
The stars look’d on with silence grim and vast,
And mark’d the spot where living love had pass’d.
Yet in the deep where light of Heav’n doth fade,
A whisper stirr’d beneath the cypress shade:

Rise up, thou soul by cruel falsehood torn –
Revenge is thine, though cursed and reborn.

Then did his bones in agony convene,
And stand as marionette by force unseen.
No heart did beat, nor voice did rise in song,
But Death himself did guide his steps along.
A house he knew – her perfum’d, painted lair,
Where once he dream’d and kiss’d her golden hair.
There laughter rang, new love did moan and pant,
But Death stood darkly at the threshold’s slant.

“What shade disturbs my chamber in the night?”
“A man betray’d, return’d to claim his right.”
“Thou’rt but a dream – a folly born of grief.”
“Nay, I’m thy end – thy wraith, thy blade, thy thief.”
“Thou liest sweet and still. I come with none but silence, and to kill.”

He gripp’d the man that now her bosom knew,
And crack’d his neck as dryest kindling,
He gripp’d the man that now her bosom knew,
And crack’d his neck as dryest kindling through.
Then turn’d to her, whose lips had once brought bliss,
And drank her soul in one unholy kiss.

She scream’d, she wept, her veins grew pale and dry –
He suck’d her red, and left her throat awry.
And as she gasped her final, vain lament,
He smiled once more – and thus was vengeance spent.

Then wind did blow, and moon grew wan and still,
And ash did fall upon the windowsill.
His limbs gave way, as time itself did cease,
And Death releas’d him with a sigh of peace.

No tomb shall keep him, nor shall song remain –
For love once spurn’d returneth not again.
But he who loves, and falls, and rises foul...
May drag thee hence, to share his ashen cowl.