Get all 4 Eurynome releases available on Bandcamp.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Death of Poseidon, Decadence in Minor, Funerals unto Ruin, and Obsequies.
1. |
|
|||
Beneath our cynical star,
the light has now gone astray.
Its ethereal bayonets meet their defeat
through diseased skies.
They bring a pale life to atemporal mists.
A tragical decadence upon desolate futures:
eloquence of the doomsday fog.
Colosseums of bones
rise as shrines of time,
towering on earth’s clearings;
devoid of our past.
Here they lies shrouded
in a turmoil of calm.
Boundless hazes
oxidize the ages:
their woe - our bequest,
lone witness of eternity.
|
||||
2. |
|
|||
In this glade of wrecked moons
visceral aims hold our path.
Bewildering realities show too our fate,
and the quest for reasons of that bleak life
crawls through our pale thoughts.
We walk into the moors of murk
to reach at last the primeval abyss:
the ashes polis from which we were born,
the Yestermost dark.
While we gather the thousand chains of our guiltiness,
and the weight of our deserved doom
we see again the old stones screech.
Nature got overwhelmed, tainted,
and desolation dims each lost desire of all of us.
Eurynome, the otherworld goddess, will show us why we drown in ruination.
We evoke her on the stele of her dreary, glorious memories.
A ruined stone is her grave, where she buried herself to deign us not of any glance.
Fires of life we burn to celebrete her.
And awful chants are whispered to her, while we accept our scourge.
She won’t answer to our appeals: we leave, realizing our own sentence is undeniable.
|
||||
3. |
The Dead Warden
02:54
|
|
||
4. |
At the Solitary Crypt
08:04
|
|
||
Cold dew of a November dawn
awakens my lust
for the exile from this life;
As i wander furled in fog and woe
on the path to forgotten crypts.
Arrived to this tomb declined
in solitude for all its time;
moss and dampness adorn the spires,
autumnal leaves share decay with debris.
As the rain starts to fall,
gates and doorways I pass.
Faded paintings tell of loss,
murble walls show carvings
of an afterlife denied.
I’m enraptured in decadence allure,
still the passage to a vault below
is my way.
Relief comes from this acrid dark, thick air I breathe.
Catacombs out of time welcome me, my grief.
By dim gleams of a torch a subterrain I unveil.
A place of funerary halls,
drenched in lugubrious peace.
A place for my soul to rest.
|
||||
5. |
|
|||
Weary stones by hundreds winters scolded, so wounded
still serving the memoirs of the bones beneath…
Before us, glum they’re gathered,
assembled yet lone among a vast sylvan company.
From this backdrop, which we made our pulpit,
deep sermons of solace we bring to the mournfuls:
those past’s selves of ours, hovering upon
the open coffins, not unlike wistful ghosts,
in a wake for their youth longings.
"As the rite commence,
led by a somber silence,
an invitation we bring to our hearts:
to make the tears of joy and ardor
belonged to the days of yore,
stronger than the ones we now pour in grief,
for what we unawarely became."
A stifled start shakes the quiet
that we evoked, absorbed in scorn.
Coffins await to be filled
With the old winters vestige:
"thoughts and relics from distant ages of ourselves."
Times to be praised and greeted
with a worthy burial.
A procession of grieved shapes and shovels
now take place towards the tombs,
that claim their guests.
Each body faces its own grave,
raising choirs of laments.
And a sough of eulogies too,
in emotive entwines.
Futile mundane prayers.
"We stand touched,
like statues all carved in pathos.
The intimate being of ours,
has answered the obsequies,
giving itself to eternity.
Here and forever
It’s finally immortalized
within the latter years
we truly lived.
A dismal concert of spadefuls,
giving back the soil to the pits,
brings the last farewell.
Slowly we now leave
this overgrown graveyard,
fulfilling the ritual."
We’ll be waiting for the time
when the ritual of our lives
shall be fulfilled too,
as we’ll join this graveyard's undergrowth.
|
||||
6. |
|
|||
7. |
The End of All We Know
05:46
|
|
||
End of our whole worlds,
the end of all we know (x3)
End of our whole worlds,
the end of all we hold
dear...
|
Eurynome Milan, Italy
Atmospheric Funeral Doom with distorted bass, tuned at 436 Hz for a more decadent and melancholy sound.
We're inspired by 1800s cemeterial and somber culture, also ancient Greek and Roman mythology.
Founded in cemeterial mist - 1883
Streaming and Download help
If you like Eurynome, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp