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Can you remember the words of our dying Mother? |
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All winters' white...and wonderful |
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The third eye spies the greatest pain |
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In league with the cycle of life...feel the change |
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Her breath of frost upon the house of Man's beating heart |
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Sleep children sleep, such colours to be seen |
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Sanguine glaciers, the veins of our prelude |
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Fore this is where She lies. Mother, be our eyes... |
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Be our eyes... |
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As the icicles fall, moments of reverence |
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The invention of all, everything calls and every life-line ignites |
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The tears of Mother, everlasting season |
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But the phoenix empire expires...exhales...the curtain call to embers |
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Within us She lives, around us She's dying |
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Fading lights blacken, garden's euphoric...cowering underworld order |
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The winds sing our dirge...This is where She lies |
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The veiling unveiled... Mother, our Mother beats down her ashen wings |
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Mother, be our eyes... |
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Grey and dripping the blood of Mother |
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Feel Her pain |
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Evolving, the shrouds She gathers |
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This is where She lies |
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In abstraction without colours |
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We die with the fall of the icicles... |
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Lost to pigment the pale paradise... |
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Swept in tow to the danse macabre |
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In hand to the cold grasp of time...of time |
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Broken shutters gape open wide |
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Breathing in hoarse whispers on high... |
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Cry...white-noise witch choir |
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Ice tears of our Mother |
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Pillars of monolith and ice, laced with lightning |
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Besieged by the void, the anti-matter of mind |
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Once were painted walls, now they preach parched skin petals |
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The freeze-frame tomb unfolds...for our Mother...our Mother |
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Cry...white-noise witch choir |
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Fall of the icicles... |
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Mother...Mother...Mother...Mother... |
