Lyrics
"They wanted, as we say,
'to call their souls their own.' but that means
To live a lie, for our souls are not, in fact, our own."
- C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain
The continuum I behold, such is my inner want
Not that I should bold above that which is not around me
The art of soul is now meaningless
As I behold my total lack of self
Lo! Demeter
Behold the eart
Above and below
Thou makest believe
Uncreated!
Above the sphere
Rebellious globe
Thou makes us believe
Why, oh why, are we left?
To be sin in such perfect a place
The desolate mind is so perfectly spoiled
In the eyes of a raptures snake
Eyes of a raptures snake
Hear me speak, brothers of the earth
My words that shattered like clay
So I speak as if thou were a child
Lest fire besiegeth thy hearts
Beckon forth! The soulless mankind
Standing in ranks of thousands still more
But this fate is what I have always feared for we soulless men
We soulless men