"No human power can stop the will of heaven from being asserted."
Worming through the mark Of Ezekiel and Mark Through the chapters of Honorius Gilles, as in a trance Screwed the pages up and danced Courting something vainly glorious
He walked he gravest night That decrepit final juncture Of doom and negativity Reeking of death And the gloom of Stygian light
When suddenly, the faintest whisper! A curtain opened in a painted vista Moonbeams swept into his dream... Balsamic and anathema
Balsamic and anathema
Prelati full of stars Magical, ecstatic stars That sparkled, no debacle sought to douse His fiery omnipresence Hissed at heaven, evanescent He was there to thwart the burning of his Faust
The gates were prised, the phantom horses Snorted, restless to be gone With enchantment's eyes upon the door, he cried- 'Come with me now! '
Gilles balked, the thought of life Accused and pursued And overridden by morbidity Saddened his breath For those destined for his knife
Then suddenly - the strangest feeling One that left the angels reeling Atonement crept into his midst Balsamic and anathema
Balsamic and anathema
Prelati, full of stars This abductor of his heart Promised him horizons free of pain But all the grand designs Magic sings and midnight wines In the dream-world couldn't hope to swerve his aim
He would stay and face his slayers Cardinals and courtroom players Whilst Prelati must now flee before The pure and azure dawn...
The gates were wide, the phantom horses Snorted, restless to be gone With enchantment's eyes upon the door Once more he cried 'Come with me now! '
Prelati full of stars Tried to pull him from the dance Summoning his Barron to perform But as the Demon rose In sweet miracles of prose And propaganda, came a proper bible storm
Lightning - grinning, froze On this murder-site of crows And from the scattered ashes stepped a sylph The maiden Joan of Arc Crept more beautiful and dark A paradise, a cradle free of filth
She was chaste beyond all graces The face of faith illuminated More precious than Prelati's spell A Goddess in a dream...
And trembling in her arm Her eyes a thousand golden psalms That glittered as on Christmas night He wept like Hallowe'en
He held the scene, the poignant gleam Of peace and great serenity Close to his heart, her parting kiss He slept to wake released in bliss
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Worming through the mark Of Ezekiel and Mark Through the chapters of Honorius Gilles, as in a trance Screwed the pages up and danced Courting something vainly glorious
He walked he gravest night That decrepit final juncture Of doom and negativity Reeking of death And the gloom of Stygian light
When suddenly, the faintest whisper! A curtain opened in a painted vista Moonbeams swept into his dream... Balsamic and anathema
Balsamic and anathema
Prelati full of stars Magical, ecstatic stars That sparkled, no debacle sought to douse His fiery omnipresence Hissed at heaven, evanescent He was there to thwart the burning of his Faust
The gates were prised, the phantom horses Snorted, restless to be gone With enchantment's eyes upon the door, he cried- 'Come with me now! '
Gilles balked, the thought of life Accused and pursued And overridden by morbidity Saddened his breath For those destined for his knife
Then suddenly - the strangest feeling One that left the angels reeling Atonement crept into his midst Balsamic and anathema
Balsamic and anathema
Prelati, full of stars This abductor of his heart Promised him horizons free of pain But all the grand designs Magic sings and midnight wines In the dream-world couldn't hope to swerve his aim
He would stay and face his slayers Cardinals and courtroom players Whilst Prelati must now flee before The pure and azure dawn...
The gates were wide, the phantom horses Snorted, restless to be gone With enchantment's eyes upon the door Once more he cried 'Come with me now! '
Prelati full of stars Tried to pull him from the dance Summoning his Barron to perform But as the Demon rose In sweet miracles of prose And propaganda, came a proper bible storm
Lightning - grinning, froze On this murder-site of crows And from the scattered ashes stepped a sylph The maiden Joan of Arc Crept more beautiful and dark A paradise, a cradle free of filth
She was chaste beyond all graces The face of faith illuminated More precious than Prelati's spell A Goddess in a dream...
And trembling in her arm Her eyes a thousand golden psalms That glittered as on Christmas night He wept like Hallowe'en
He held the scene, the poignant gleam Of peace and great serenity Close to his heart, her parting kiss He slept to wake released in bliss
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