Humanfly - Heavy black snow (ft. Rose Kemp) | Текст песни

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• Humanfly
• Heavy black snow (ft. Rose Kemp)

And so it was, the eve of the end. Our land was dying. We were as isolated and alienated from nature as we were from each other. The island had changed and shifted. It was now unrecognizable from the year of my birth. The weather was no longer shown on TV. And there were so many painful and confusing occurrences that were unavoidable in living out just one simple day on our island. People simply learned to just whistle and walk by.

It was on the outskirts of the city that I found our guide, muttering and reciting prophecies hunched over and facing the corner of a bus shelter. He wasn't much to look at. He looked just like the rest of us in form. But I knew it was him. I felt it and the air stood still. My senses were heightened and my mouth opened up. And with a sharp movement he turned to face me:

Aurora Australis (x2)

A greenish glow/the wind is low
the parallel rays of magnetic control
a storm igniting around the equinox
a door where energy flows
Reaction grows in the earth's magnetosphere
an abundance of electrons
A high priest standing on the top of a mountain
holding on to a burning candle
The wax is made from the fat of a racist/it drips into the sand
I stand in contempt of everything/on the shores of oblivion
The people are afraid and they fall in line/on the shores of oblivion
The tabloid culture erodes our minds/on the shores of oblivion

We can no longer stand...on the shores of oblivion (x2)

Just then the sky grew dark and the clouds began their tawdry mating dance. And in that split second his eyes entered mine. And in that moment they were all I could see. His left eye was of the deepest, saddening blood red, and the right of the brightest blue with golden speckles; one of frost and one of fire.

He glared at me, bitter and scared like a fallen soldier at this apocalypse. Twisted was his tongue as was his spine. His blonde greased hair slicked back all the way down his neck; his thick black, waxy cloak, frayed and hanging heavy to the ground from his bony shoulders, well worn, like his leathery skin. Barefoot he shuffled towards me, spitting and sputtering snow and gravel from between his broken teeth, he spoke. And when the great man spoke it snowed a wall of glittering sleet. And the sleet turned to flakes, and the flakes turned to hail, and the hail grew bigger and bigger and sharper and darker until they were tumbling balls of compacted black ash and ice. And they rained down like fists on people outside the bus shelter with no cover. And it snowed heavy, blistering crystals from the sides of the Earth, taking down buildings a brick at a time until whole high rise structures crumbled in and the other side of the street could only be seen as if through a strobe of dust. The scape was crooked and slanted and broken.

…

Our guide said to me, "Our Island is sinking; we must row away from here." He shuttered. "I can take your hand and lead you away from the city to find safety. And I will take your hand, but in return you must take mine, and in so doing you will trust in the powers that I was given." I saw no choice. The street was almost reduced to ruins as I stood agasp. "Whatever you decide." he said. "You must decide quickly. I keep changing. And there is no way of knowing what I will become next." He shuttered again and twisted. "QUICKLY!" So quickly I reached out to take his hand. Our fingers touched. In a gruff guttural low groan he doubled over. And in a flurry of grey ash he crumbled into a hundred pieces, scattered about the floor in front of me and with the slush on the road outside the shelter I could just make out the outlines of the tiny pieces amongst the slush. And they started to liquefy and merge into a black, oily substance in a pool. It spread thinly across the pavement and it grew thicker and congealed and it spread into a huge circle across the size of the road and onto the next pavement it spread.

There, transfixed at the shining (?)

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