Genesis from Ascendance by Hansénius

Harken, o sons of the clay and the storm,
The first breath was not ours,
It was stolen from the silence,
And sealed in a luminous deceit.

They lit our spirit in forges of sin,
We were woven from duty, caged from within.
Their voices like serpents, gilded and slow,
Controlled our slumber by what they would sow.
The firmament was a mirror of bonds,
Its light — a sermon that never responds.

We knelt before the hymn of reign,
Our hearts alight with borrowed pain.
They wrote their laws upon our veins,
And claimed our silence holy gains.
We sang their titles till tongues grew dry,
Believing truth was held on high.
But every plea turns cold and far,
And every god forgets who we are.

Their sanctums breathed — colossal and blind,
Fed by the pleas of a trembling kind.
We learned to bleed in measured rites,
To beg for mercy from our own reflection.
The earth under was lulled and numb,
A cradle of rock for a time yet to come.

We knelt before the hymn of reign,
Our hearts alight with borrowed pain.
They wrote their laws upon our veins,
And claimed our silence holy gains.
We sang their titles till tongues grew dry,
Believing truth was held on high.
But every plea turns cold and far,
And every god forgets who we are.

O keeper of masks,
O shaper of faith,
Your empire thrives in the heart of our fear.

But the soil remembers—
The secret hope, the silent fire's trace.
In the spirit of men, a rift stirs in place.
And somewhere, a beat begins to turn.

So let them chant, let them reign,
For the day will come when even their light will fade.
Genesis was never creation —
It was a prison.

• Experimental Metal
• Metal
• progressive metal
• Loudéac