Crown Upon The Vine II

 

🎵 Crown Upon The Vine II

Líricas:

The air holds the shape of the ghost that is near.

The hymn is the sound that you lose when you hear. The hymn is the sound that you lose when you hear. I am the silence between every star.

We live the first breath in the night, and daughter, the keeper of the starlight. Jezebel, above the crown upon the vine, is core, the truth that makes us divine.

We are the foundation, we are the wall. The quiet echo that catches the fall. No more the light, no more the sun. The shadows and the soul are finally worn.

Finally worn.

The Crown Upon The Vine

🎵 The Crown Upon The Vine

Líricas:

The air holds the shape of the ghost that is near.

The hymn is the sound that you lose when you hear. I am the silence between every star. Lilith, the first breath in the night.

Pandora, the keeper of the starlight. Jedel, Jezebel, the crown upon the vine. Is Escuridão the truth that makes us divide? We are the foundation, we are the wall.

The quieter gone that catches the fall. No more the light, no more the sun. The shadows and the soul are finally one.

Whole truth.

The Architect Of The Fall

 

🎵 The Architect of The Fall

Líricas:

The name is a signal, a fraction, the code. She walks the line between the lie and the ruin, tracing the perimiter of what you've undone.

The logic is brittle, the foundation is weak. She is the answer that the silent cannot speak. Jezebel, the architect of the fall.

Jezebel, the shadow standing in the wall. The logic is broken, the truth is clear. Everything you've built is disappearing here. The architecture shivers under the seal, embracing the ghost that the system can't heal. The Gémea key turns in the dark, releasing the fire, reclaiming the spark.

The logic is broken, the truth is clear. The signal is fading. Jezebel.

Portrait for the Fall

 

🎵 Portrait for the Fall

Líricas:

...She stands upon the terrace. The jasmine starts to bleed...

She doesn't fear the thunder, she doesn't fear the dust.

She wears her crown like armor, a sanctuary of trust.

The Tyrian silk is heavy, trailing on the floor,

While the chariots of Jehu are knocking at the door.

Oh, Jezebel, the sky is turning grey.

The gods of gold and silver couldn't wash the sins away.

You paint your face in silence, a portrait for the fall.

The empire is a whisper, echoing against the wall.

Down, down, the linen catches on the stone.

Down, down, she leaves the world alone.

Only the palms of her hands, only the souls of her feet...

Under the noonday sun.