The Hound Songtext

von Vulture Industries

There lies a beast,
Near the top of the stairs.
Weary and weak,
In its final years.
Still at times you'll hear
Hear it howl
Howl at the wind
A low haunted lament
For the glorious times spent
Stalking the halls
Of the tower.

Close to the sovereign's seat the wretched beast lies,
Dreary and riddled with lice.
Frail, weak and dirty,
Fur patched and thin,
It barely bothers to shake off the flies.
Its years of glory now long past and gone;
Its body quakes, throbbing from the shame,
Of its fall from grandeur into the abyss,
To the oblivion of the useless and the maimed.
I used to hear it call my name,
But the howl turned to a wail.
As the hound yearns,
The past burns the beast
At the top of the stairs...
So weary and weak,
In its final years.
Still at times you'll hear
Hear it howl
Howl at the wind
A low haunted lament
For the glorious times spent
Stalking the halls
The halls of the tower.

Hear the beast's wailing call,
A ghost from the past chasing through every hall,
A feeble shadow
Of what was once feared by us all.
A reluctant derelict from a bygone time,
Still sending shivers down many a spine,
But a stranger still
Among its own kind,
This pitiful ghost.

Hear the hound keeps calling,
As it used to know our names,
But it can't recall them
As its grip did slowly wane.

Yet the hound keeps calling,
As it used to know our names,
But it can't recall them
As its grip did slowly wane.
And the hound keeps calling
As its world keeps falling...