| When the everywhere eye asks you
|
| «Who is the emperor of the sky?»
|
| Take the Archangel’s Thunderbird
|
| Go to Edgar Allen
|
| In the tower of sleep
|
| He’ll tell you a story
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| Which makes you to creep
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| The echo of your cries
|
| Is falling too deep
|
| Rent a destroyer
|
| And sail to Cape Cod
|
| There lives a lion
|
| They call him God
|
| There’s no elevator to Eden
|
| But a hole in the sky
|
| In shock corridors, people standing
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| With their eyes in their hands
|
| But they don’t understand
|
| Why their confessional folding chairs
|
| Go into the narcotic flight of stairs
|
| Baiting soldiers are sleeping
|
| In the melting House of Wax
|
| Why the audience’s not taking
|
| The insurrection axe
|
| Thousands of windows burst open
|
| And the alarm bells are broken |