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Ghosts of the Mountains

by Appalachian Winter

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Own the very first Appalachian Winter album to be offered on CD, now reissued due to the original run selling all copies!

    Includes unlimited streaming of Ghosts of the Mountains via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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    edition of 100 

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If freedom was to to fall from the heavens As brilliant orbs of light, The people of the mountains would catch them first And hold them closely to their hearts. If you hold close to your heart A treasure greater than life, You will know death before separation, And so you will hold it for your eternity. You who think you rule over men May put to paper any words you wish, But they who live in the mountains Will always be free, And owe you, who know not Of life's great struggle, Nothing.
Patriarchs 05:34
Old wisdom shines like light Across the void of time. Old words fight decay From foolish minds. Ages die like fire From the falling rain, As our patriarchs Smile and become the Earth. Fire and rain - Strip me to my bones, As I know my name And claim my forefather's heart. Fire and rain - Wash the Earth anew, As my forefathers and I Rise from ashes.
This lake; these lands I stand upon, Have and age - an epoch that can't be known. They bear ancient names; The only remnants of those here before. I like to think that the ravens who come, Bear their wayward souls back to this land they called home. But likely these are only ravens, And nothing more. I like to think that every raindrop that falls here, Are their tears returning home - that they may weep no more. But likely they are only raindrops, And nothing more. I like to think after I yield forth my last breath, That my spirit will join those ancient ones, In song to our beloved mountains. But likely that day, We shall all be dust, And nothing more.
Many pass here, but few are to know. Few live here. They inherit a corner of this world Sweetened by the absence of eyes upon it. A microcosm can reflect a universe. So we live; tiny lives in our forgotten town. Let it be nothing to those who pass by, For it is everything to me.
Keystone 04:52
Over three days time, My mountains, my beautiful mountains Beheld immeasurable horror! When men came to slaughter men- My mountains beheld this- When souls come to ashes, And Death's roar loudens, Life reduces to the value of lead. When men came The world beheld the slaughter In my beautiful mountains. When men came upon these fields, Humanity darkened. Old eventualities bore old mountains In their witness. When Death's roar loudens, The last moments of men Are borne in wrath, fear and shock. Better of ten thousand Spilled all their blood, And my beautiful mountains Became a place of horror.
Colossal things rose in my mountains; Born of rocks and men. They found within themselves a thirst for fire. So followed many lands to take of my mountains As monstrous works changed my land forever. It was my land first Where fire was found; The essence of life long since gone. The souls of a forgotten time Were torn from the Earth, And made to live again As fire in the heart of a new age. It was my land first, Where cold eyes fell upon the mountains, And monsters rose among them -Nailed to the land- To take of the mountains While others were carved away, And left to rot by monstrous men. It was my land first . . .
Stands there a smaller city upon rivers. In the mountains there, men forged steel under a ghastly shadow. When the rains came, Tragedy was forewritten, For men had declared the river a lake, And when the rains came, the river reclaimed itself. No barrier built knows the truth of Earth, Water and Sun. When eyes closed and Life laid down en masse, The city, scarred and horrified, became a dire warning - Remembered still by my people. When the rains come again, Will the next river break free?
Here is a place haunted, Where shadow and soul are one, And the land hides the horror Of those who ran - ran for the dignity of men. All that remains are stones And whispered memories For hope also fled, And so they died - they died for the dignity of men. These are the unmarked graves Of those our history has left behind.


The fifth installment from this one-man force from the remote Pennsylvanian mountains is a monumental work in both scope and ferocity! A must-have for fans of Moonsorrow, Ensiferum, and more!


released March 9, 2013

All music tracks 1-4, 6-9 by DG Klyne and Appalachian Winter.
Drums on track 5 by Andreas Heib and Draumar
Additional guitars on track 5 by Randy Smith


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Nine Gates Records Columbus, Ohio

To live and die is the human condition. To experience that existence is the essence of art.

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