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Remember how it all began |
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the apple and the fall of man |
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the price we pay |
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so the people say |
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Down the path of shame it led us |
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dare to bite the hand that fed us |
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fairy tale the moral end |
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wheel of fortune never turns again |
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Never turns again |
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The worst of it is come and gone in the chaos of millennium |
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in the falling out of the doomsday crowd |
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their last retreat is moving slow |
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they burn their bridges as they go |
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the heretic is beautified |
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he'll teach the harlot's child to smile |
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Wracked again by indecision |
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should we make that small incision |
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testify to the bleeding heart inside? |
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we cut, we scratched |
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we ran, we slashed |
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and when he opened up at last |
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found a cul-de-sac |
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deep and black |
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of smoke and ash |
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The wicked king of parody |
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is kissing all his enemies |
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on the seventh day |
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of the seventh week |
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the tyrant's voice is softer now |
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but just for one forgiving hour |
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before the rise of his |
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iron fist again |
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fist again |
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I've come tonight |
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I've come to know |
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the way we are |
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the way we'll go |
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come to measure this |
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the width of the wide abyss |
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I come to you in restless sleep |
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where all your dreams turn bittersweet |
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with voodoo doll philosophies |
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and day-glow holy trinities |
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the crooked raft that leaves the shore |
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ferries drunken souls aboard |
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pilgrims march to Compostela |
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visions of their saint in yellow |
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all follow deep in trance |
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lost in a catatonic dance |
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know no future |
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damn the past |
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blind, warm, ecstatic |
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safe at last... |
