And so now civilization dances to the barbarian's music,
And the hand that reached thru space is gripping time,
Oh the flesh used to make angel's blood,
And that voice that chanted war now sings in rhyme.
But still I see darkness where shadows have fallen.
In an upright posture the ape is mocking pride,
Troubleshooting the cosmos from the fetal position,
Blank space pushing weather thru a yielding sky,
And the mind that shaped the matter is cast into remission.
But still the stars are greased for the prophets passion.
The heart of the beast; pressed against the ribcage,
His mind is fixed on the makeshift treasure,
Laws that tame and order his shape,
He plummets headlong into pain and stumbles into pleasure.
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