The Apocryphal Wisdom Of An Allegorical Apocalypse -
The prophet: Many martyrs have fallen
since I passed that what
The truth: Many skies have bled.
The prophet: Many gods did return, many prayers
lost their aim many loves have felt.
The truth: Many suns were born.
The prophet: I wonder if the children will forgive ...
When the light dies through infinite darkness
and the children start to cry:
when a scream turns to a whisper
when the ages bleed alive ...
Reality becomes illusion
illusion is reality;
is this an alliance of the ancient
or the new birth of a prophecy?
Unnatural beings, morbid existence
resuscitated horror, ambigious visions
see the apocalypse - rise ...
We were
banned by the fire, in the grip of the ceremony.
We saw
types in our hearts, we denied every life we could give
And
infinity grasped out for slaves, day by day - year for year.
Why
that prophet spoke to the abyss below him:
"Have we ever been free"?
And behind the shade sleeps an apocryphal wisdom
in the hour of twilight
in this legendary times ...
Unnatural beings, morbid existence
resuscitated horror, ambigious visions
see the apocalypse - rise ...
Now that the breath has gone
the fire claims its might;
now that, in this dark millenium
no master is alive.
Now that s castle stands
between the ruins of the past;
now that the omens wither away,
no hope will ever last.
The prophet:
I wonder if the children will forgive
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