My Kantele

Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense Who say that music reckon that the kantele Was fashioned by God Out of a great pike's shoulders From a water-dog's hooked bones: It was made from grief It's belly out of hard days Its sound board from endless woes Its strings gathered from torments And it pegs from other ills Truly they lie, they talk utter nonsense So it will not play, will not rejoice at all Music will not play to please Give off the right sort of joy For it was fashioned from cares Moulded from sorrow

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 22, 2025

Where have you been, where have you been My son, my merry son? On the seashore, on the seashore Mother, my darling one. And what have you been doing there My son, my merry son? I have been watering my horse Mother, my darling one. Why is there blood upon your feet My son, my merry son? My horse stamped with its iron shoe Mother, my darling one. Why there is blood upon your sword My son, my merry son? I have stabbed my brother to death Mother, my darling one. What now of you, where will you go My son, my wretched son? To other lands to foreign lands My dame, my darling one. When will you be returning home My son, my wretched son? When all the world to judgement comes My dame, my darling one.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 22, 2025

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

I must be out of my mind as I hear you call My name even though I can't see you anywhere Surely this feeling is coming from something Someone gave me yesterday as I searched for you And I hear you call I hear you call my name But when I turn around There's nothing to be found I must be dreaming a dream of a lunatic My fingers taste like some strawberry icecream I hear you call my name but I don't think it's The same I heard you whisper in my ear

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Nov 07, 2025