Lyrics A Purpose for New London - Dan Bull, The Stupendium

A Purpose for New London

Gather brothers, gather sisters
Soothe your blisters by the fire
Though our bones may ache and groan
We know our spirits never tire
The temperature’s low, but our purpose is much higher
What’s behind us mustn’t blind us to divineness that transpires
Now our spires have expired, well, she rests in each of you
London’s not a place, it wasn’t left beneath our boots
And by grace, we have been blessed
With that most elegant of truth
You stand here not abandoned, but as testament and proof
For a city is its people, and its people are its heart
Stood together 'gainst the weather 'gainst the coming of the dark
Ne’er a lantern has been lit with oh so righteous a spark
When providence claimed continents, but provided us an ark
We moved north as awful forceful storms removed borders
Forced to leave the warmth behind
The daylight hours grew shorter
Unable to read at night, the people might dispute lawbooks
Ushering the death of joy, division made a new order
Brute force and discipline ensures all the citizens
Are chipping in sufficiently under threat of imprisonment
Liberty’s prohibited, retired, it’s mandatory compliance now
To keep the fire alight, we need to stamp any defiance out
We can ill afford the price of human rights
Nor pay the cost of anger
So we stifle scrutinising eyes astray with propaganda
The only way that we can pull through is under cruel rule
If a single person falls out of line, we all do
Morning gathering or evening prayer
We still battle for a season fair
We still huddle in the freezing air
For a summer that’s not even there
If that sun won’t rise on our horizon
We’ll march on to spite the skies
And find that wheel of progress so well worn
Brought us no shelter from the storm
I have heard that there are those who would defy us
Who’d choose oppression o’er ascension for the pious
Dissidents without repent are bent on questioning the dias
Twisted iron fist pariahs and their heretic messiah
Winter blizzards to infinity, so sing the hymns and litanies
Hand in and skin the sinners if you wish to skim divinity
Each shiver will deliver us deliverance in time
Burn the innocents for penitence if we preempt the crime
I’m protector of the truth, great erector of the new faith
Defectors and objectors can expect a second doomsday
Unquestioning our destiny, relentless we pursue fate
Alone, I have been chosen to be spoken through by true grace
Frozen omens say we should invoke another crusade
We rush to crush dissent from those who claim we must repent
How could a benevolent god subject us to such events?
Against the elements, precious seconds each of us has spent
Completing public penance could have
Been invested putting up the tents
Pragmatism’s borne of pessimism
Not a full blown pestilence infecting
Desperate residents with false hope
Now they’ve sworn oaths and pledged commitment to a cult
No mercy will be shown or quarter given, fetch the coiled rope
And hang them by the necks until its taut
The lesson learned is certain:
No forgiveness for giving attention to those worthless sermons
No measure of faith will keep you warm or sate your appetite
So pray heed the warning or we may just have to tax your life
Morning gathering or evening prayer
We still battle for a season fair
We still huddle in the freezing air
For a summer that’s not even there
If that sun won’t rise on our horizon
We’ll march on to spite the skies
And find that wheel of progress so well worn
Brought us no shelter from the storm
Now the Book of Laws has closed, you’ve no hope to try and fight
As the people fall in line and march in time with iron might
Nonbelievers shan’t deceive us
We shall greet their cheek with grievance
In this ceaseless season
We redeem the meek with bleak obedience
Seeking each unheeding heathen
See them bleed or plead allegiance
Blessed be relief from freedom lest you feel the need for treason
Since the precept was decreed, its certainty was predetermined
Mere vermin are the people, thus they need to be subservient
They deserve paternal leadership, eternally prescriptive
Turn a leaf in the journal, weep as you read the scriptures
The Book of Laws is closed, it’s frozen shut and couldn’t thaw
But should the storm subside, it might be time to write a couple more