Down comes the angel to exile* The beast and all its misgivings, into the bottomless Void of unending for a thousand years down she glides With key in iron grasp Clenched firmly within her palm She unbinds topographical mounds Unwinds the fabric of eons And in a whirl of mushroomed atmospheres Of dark matter and omnipresent cosmic dust She expels the trickery reptillious purveyor of brooding consequences To a darkness unrelenting But the key is not a key, it is a scalpel, The beast is not a dragon but merely a tumor
Sitting, thriving, an undulating wad On the inner mind of mankind, freewill gone utterly awry This could be our Armageddon
[Chorus:] What we need is not a dogmatic explosion with angels And flames, dragons and chalices, we need a complete metamorphosis Of the consciousness of all mankind
For thousands of years we strolled around our cosmic hospice While it throbbed deceitful punctures into The life paradigm, clouding our judgment by placing ego-centrical metamorphosis Before our existential manifestation receptors Clogging our desires with delusions of grandeur Addictions to endorphin rushes converting our attentions
Gonzo free radical thought cells exuding meticulous energy Pummeling the free autonomy With its incestuous offspring; hate, greed, lust, jealousy
Dispensed fervently in those last ominous pages Is it more than a final grasp at our stolen immortality? Thrust away the snake, step aside, take a number, repent, rejoice Go to window number zero, pick up your wings And your newly restored eternal being
Now her comes the doctor and she looks ever so sweet with the Blade in hand, we wait for the incision But will it peak its benign head around the corner again in a thousand years?