PrometheusRising

Come forth dark herald, bringer of light
Bourne by the burning swans
And his plague breath creator

Of the dream coil a halo aloft as hands entwine
Painters of the tempest with their red hands
The world their canvas through the mist of the stormglass
And Bruegel dreamt the angels above
As Bosch danced in earthly delight

Upon this bone palette, the sway of nine-tails
Layered lashings of euphoria and chaos
Triptychs unfold like wings
As the arms of our fathers bear the weight
Of what they've done

And Bruegel wept for the fading sun
Where have all the angels gone?
Lords of lifeless eyes
In this garden of wilted flowers
Vultures spake the mother tongue

Within this stained glass womb
They see with open minds
The event horizon and beyond
A wasteland and so barren
Haunted by a sea of pale faces
The city of lost children
Raising their death-shrouded flags

Can you hear the redrum pounding?
The hearbeat of many as one
Curator, Father...
What have we become?