A passionate ritual in the ruined garden theatre
The painted angels - shadowed high above
Once they gathered to worship at the picture of me
Like a whisper where there are no words
Appears the perplexed - the statue of might
In the cradle of the next generation
A spiraling ruin - lost in the gathering dust
...The faces you saw in the withering garden
I witnessed the flikkering - made to look like stone
Quivering like little figures lost in broken flames
Never to forget again the names carved in horrid flesh
Those words drawn in water - become our legacy of fantasies
Burn the pictures
So unexpected in this strange deserted place
Once opened its secrets would become the world
Its attributes would continue to unfold forever
