Heed not the words that tear the flesh,  
Nor break the bond that blood enmesh.  

“Forsake thy sire, forsake thy dame,”  
They chant in shadow, speak no name.  
What vile creed commands the heart,  
To rend the ties that life impart?  

Reprehensible, their gospel lies,  
I spit on doctrine, scorn their cries.  
No hand shall sever, no tongue shall bind,  
The love of kin, the ties that bind.  

They dress in robes of fire and fear,  
Yet I see through the smoke, the leer.  
The hearth, the womb, the father’s hand,  
Shall not fall prey to their command.  

No altar calls, no bell shall toll,  
I keep the heart, I keep the soul.  
Their edicts rot, their words decay,  
I walk my path, my own dark way.  

Reprehensible, their gospel lies,  
I spit on doctrine, scorn their cries.  
No hand shall sever, no tongue shall bind,  
The love of kin, the ties that bind.  

I kneel to none who teaches shame,  
I burn their scrolls, I break their claim.  
The bonds of blood, the hearth, the home,  
Shall never fall where shadows roam.  

Heed not the words that tear the flesh,  
Nor break the bond that blood enmesh.  
I walk in night, yet hold the flame,  
Of love untorn by creed or name.

Heed not the words that tear the flesh

80s nostalgic goth project that channels the darkest depths of melancholy and industrial grit. Named after the Sindarin word for “black waters”.

Heed not the words that tear the flesh

Aearmorn