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(03/28/1879 A.D. 4.50 AM, London, England) |
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I opened my eyes and I saw everything |
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The blueprints of the greater design |
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The curse of knowing |
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And being set to witness is mine |
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All my words they burn with revelations |
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Jagged sulphur dissolving the unknown |
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But they fall all upon deafened ears |
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Smothered on London's cold cobblestones |
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The deadweight of my knowledge |
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Deprives me from sanity |
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Twist my words to mirrorspeech |
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For I fail to make them see |
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No choice is left to those |
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Burdened with the darkest of secrets |
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Thus from the pulpit I |
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Scream to the pavement's soul of stone. |
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I will be the last shackle |
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In this EVER-ARCH-I-TECH-TURE |
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For it is too much to bare, to hold |
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The chainreaction is terminated |
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Yet so many revelations |
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of one clear image to see |
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they all paint one scene: |
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"A world covered in graves" |
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"I am set to witness" |
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No choice is left to those |
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Burdened with the darkest of secrets |
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Thus from the pulpit I |
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Scream to the cellwalls's cushioned souls of stone |
