Perihelion Ship - 5. A Rare Thunderstorm In Spring | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Perihelion Ship
• 5. A Rare Thunderstorm In Spring

Mankind had reached a point of no return.
The wheel that once had been set in motion
By the Age of Enlightenment had now been lost in speed.
There was no stopping it now.
Each scientific discovery propelled the wheel onwards,
Accelerating the speed of evolution.
And the prophets called it beautiful.
They were scientists,
Who'd gone mad of the power they now held,
For after disproving the existence of God in the year 2359,
They saw themselves as immortals.
However, the Universe was breaking at the seams,
And soon the tear in the valve of the cosmos was too great,
And the nothingness poured in, drowning the essence.
At that point \"Time\" - as anyone would ever know it -
Stopped existing and merged with the nothingness.

Godmachine has been reached.

The man stood at an edge of green
While the abyss swirled around
Inside the swirl, he could see
The moon and stars and sun

When he listened, with eager ears
The abyss spoke in sound
At that moment he realized
What always had been done

Time is lies
Time is seconds
Time is irony
Time is death
Time is key
Time is smoke
Time is light
Time is end

Time is not illusion
But it's close
Slimy circumfusion
Bizarre prose

Time is never there
Where you were
Particles in air
Which we prefer

The \"Idols\" descended from the heavens in ca. 700 B.C.
Earthen Time, although their visit was short,
As this was a time of great unrest across the valve of the cosmos.
When a transcendent being steps on \"mortal\" ground
His far more evolved aura causes a disease in those less advanced.
That was when the Earthen man was afflicted with a DNA disorder
That would on occasion spew forth anomalies,
Such as J.S. Bach and W. A. Mozart.
When the \"Idols\", (now called \"aliens\") returned in 2109,
Mankind offered them the works of Bach and Mozart
As proof of their advance,
But the alien race was uninterested in mankind's boasting
And sharing of what to them were just some ideas.
Years earlier, there was a man who wrote a text
That touched upon all these matters slightly,
Without him himself ever quite realizing it.

Thousand years ago
My kin and kind was born
But our blood was cursed
We were met with scorn

Outside them we hide
Observe, without discord
We don't need their strife
We lament their horde

Soon mankind will face
The stars and cosmos seas
The valve casting night
Opens for all to see

That's how we'll die
Physical form descends
Futility and despair
Inside a bitter end

And I just despise
All those who die
Without a self
Without a honest reason why

Because they fall
Within hype of the land
Their fate always sealed
By the ones in command

Thus search yourself
And question now
Are you a clone
To whom do you bow

He is the Rotating Man
His brain is made of marzipan
He has no money and he has no fame
He'll never be happy because it's a game!

I am lies
I am seconds
I am irony
I am death
I am key
I am smoke
I am light
I am end

The archive, or \"the\" archive,
As most entities like to say,
Is a two dimensional planet hanging down from the valve of the cosmos,
Approximately 12 million light years from Earth
And 700 million light years from the origin of space time.
Its libraries and contents would later be hugely beneficial
In the programming of the Oracle Machine,
And the following song,
The Grey Autumn in the House of Starlight,
Would be the tipping point for scientists
Who now would be able to understand themselves enough
To understand the machine they were building.

Walking to the city
I see them burning
The grey wind is moving the flames apart

A black sound echoes through the mountains
The cold rain guides it all around

Outside the walls
A man is laughing
Their house is slowly crumbling down

The acid sea boils beneath the heavens
Ashen rain a curtain, window, crown

In some galaxies it was said that in the day of the apocalypse,
The giant tapestry monster
Would break through the valve of the cosmos and climb in;
Its feet as tall as the Universe itself.
His fury was not so much a rage than a duty to fulfill,
Like the Janitor who in the end of the day comes
To clean all the toys left by the neighbor kids.

It happened in a dream
A voice inside of me
Showed me burning skies
Asked me to come by
Before we would die

And now I know his face
The tapestry of deep space
A being rather kind
Although not designed
Beyond time and mind

I am the tapestry, the janitor, the caretaker
And this valve is running out of time
I am the fabric, the Godman, the deity
And I've come to take you back

The dream felt so real
I almost did not see
What he did to me
To sanity I was blind
To insanity intertwined
Now I walk this road
Ready to explode
Trying to withdraw
From the things I saw
The things I saw in awe

I am the watcher, the guardian, the leviathan
And this valve is running out of time
I am the particle, the first child, the giant
And I've come to take you back

In the end, we simply embraced 6.53
By becoming to terms with 5.633, 5.641
And all the others above 6.0, most notably 6.522.
We became aware of our own Eye, our programming.

The man saw a plain of green
While the abyss swirled around
Behind the swirl, he could see
The moon and stars and sun

When he opened, his eager mind
The abyss spawned through sound
At that moment he realized
What never had been done

Perhaps it all was just a rare thunderstorm in spring...

Perihelion Ship еще тексты