Why it was chosen: In Slavic folk tales Koschei is primarily seen as the antagonist. This song attempts to humanize his character by potentially explaining how his fear of death, being overlooking and powerless, lead him down a path that over the decades results in the loss of his morality; consumed by sociopathy. The irony now is that his actions to have and control everything have left him with nothing.
lyrics
Recollections of my days are becoming blear,
Or maybe it’s the blood loss…?
I recall when the idea first crystalized,
The fatuous endeavor before we inevitably die
The toil, the tragedy, the momentary triumphs;
Humbled under the heel of time
Studying sorcery I found way to survive,
My soul entrusted to beast and bird, both buried under an oak
Unburdened by mortality my morality decayed
Whatever or whomever I desired I’d just simply take
Victim of my own conceit, I was caught, shackled, and in defeat,
With sorcery ensured hundreds died; brutally, before being bound and pacified
When efforts of execution failed to deliver me to death,
I was immured by Marya Morevna
Besieged by darkness, rats, rot, and irony;
My prison was a poetic reminder of a disadvantage of immortality
Twelve chains restrained my neck, hands, and feet
Ten years of isolation, while I wailed and screamed
Then one day, my hoarse pleas of perdition, were finally answered
A man named Ivan, unlocked my cell, and I was given water
Revitalized, the sturdy restraints holding me were easily broken, and bust
Marya’s army would perish and she’d be my bride until the day she died
Conjuring my power my rage became a tempest manifest
The warrior princess and her army in route step,
Would be destroyed; slaughtered, by both whirlwinds and thunderstorm
Bol'she nikogda… Bol'she nikogda… Bol'she nikogda!!!
Then one day I was astonished to see, the young man Ivan attempt a rescue, foolishly
Three warnings followed by three attempts, and I dismembered him; disposed in the briny currents
She escaped, again!? Tracking their trail, I was surprised to see, Ivan!?
Though I dismounted and had approached cautiously
Their steed suddenly bucked, striking my head violently
Stunned, and beaten; burned, my ashes were distributed and dispersed
Enraged yet alive, my soul still separated; I couldn’t die…
Eventually I resurrected and returned to my castle
I continued my life of hunting…
Some trophies chose to stay, some not, no one left
Except Vasilisa who showed true fondness…
I witlessly shared the safekeeping of my soul
Someone smashed my door, a rescue? I’ve dealt with these before
A swordsman, named Bulat, claimed he would take my life
Dismayed when his strikes failed to fell me
Vasilisa took my side, and I felt an egg crack on my back
Sharp agony overtook me and I fell to the floor
Reinstated with mortality my constitution deteriorated
Bulat and Vasilisa gone, my blood flowed onto the floor
Victim of my own conceit, I was callous, stubborn, and recalcitrant
With sorcery delayed when I’d die, undignified, ultimately forsaken and ostracized
Myths, legends, and folklore with their colorful imagery and imaginative narratives often served as not only entertainment
but cautionary tales for their time. Foretoken borrows from this tradition by blending Symphonic elements and Extreme Metal to retell these stories of violence, tragedy, and sorrow, from around the world....more
