07. Through Byzantine Eyes

Описание: Album: Es Of A Holy War
Track 07

“Through Byzantine Eyes” explores the arrival of the First Crusade in Constantinople through the calculating mind of Emperor Alexios I Komnenos. While the princes of the West march east proclaiming divine purpose, Alexios watches them with suspicion, strategy, and imperial precision.

He sees not saviors, but ambitious warriors driven by glory, hunger, and hidden motives. From the gilded halls of Constantinople, the emperor weighs every oath, every smile, every promise—knowing that trust can shatter empires.

This song captures the tension between East and West, faith and politics, alliance and betrayal, as Byzantium prepares to harness the crusading armies while guarding its own fragile survival.
A dark, symphonic descent into power, caution, and the cold clarity of an emperor who sees the world through Byzantine eyes.

Songtext:

From my golden throne I watch the distant road,
A restless tide of steel in foreign code.
They come as saviors crowned in fire and pride,
Yet kingdoms turn when destinies collide.

Their tongues are strange, their vows a sharpened blade,
Pilgrims in armor by ambition swayed.
They march for glory, blind to subtle ties—
But I behold their truth through Byzantine eyes.

O future written where old empires fall,
O fragile peace that bends to power’s call.
They claim God sent them, but I hear their lies—
For I see all through Byzantine eyes.

I know the West, its hunger never sleeps,
Their heroes steal the soil on which they weep.
They speak of faith, but conquest never dies—
And still I weigh their hearts through Byzantine eyes.

I greet their princes with a measured smile,
A court of silk concealing hidden guile.
For trust is fatal where an empire dies—
I read their souls through Byzantine eyes.

O future written where old empires fall,
O fragile peace that bends to power’s call.
They claim God sent them, but I hear their lies—
For I see all through Byzantine eyes.

Bohemund schemes behind a warrior’s grin,
Gottfried burns with fervor locked within.
Raymond prays, but even saints can lie—
And still I judge them all through Byzantine eyes.

The city gleams where East and West collide,
A jewel too bright for foreign hands to hide.
I grant them passage, roads the empire owns—
They march as pawns toward fate’s unknowns.

Let them reclaim the lands my empire lost,
Let them bleed for glory and bear the cost.
For fate is forged where cunning never dies—
And I shape that fate through Byzantine eyes.

O future written where old empires fall,
O fragile peace no oath or blade outlasts.
March if you must—but know the truth that lies:
The world is ruled through Byzantine eyes.


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