The Voice summoned me from the depths before there was time
I settled where the newly-formed sun could warm me
I witnessed the seasons of an eon or more before
The others were summoned to me
These small, scurrying, fleeting whispers climbed on my shoulder
In voices of their own they cried out to the One
Who had called forth us all; their lives but a flash and blast of music
Mine the long drumming notes of millennia
Over me the blood began to flow
Innocence expended to cover souls
A smattering, to blot out sins of generations
And I would humbly harbor such sacrifices
Their generations of hurried, fevered labors
covered me with a presence of their own
Cut stones and carpets, cisterns and fires
To take my place in greeting the sun
Then the crash of cymbals became impatient, harsh
The cries of priests desperate, quavering, unnerving me
Until the Voice would answer - the murmurs of its music
Muffled, muted, descending to my heart, and I would rest
And when the voices were silenced, I entered into restless sleep
And in its place Hell's haunting came
The blanket above began to fray, stones cracking
With heaving desolation, my arm was bared once more
When finally the whispers and scurries returned
New voices, new tongues, the rhythm of many nations
The blood of innocence shed to many gods and thrones
My back bore the shame of murder and disgrace
And on my bare arm the blood of guilt began to spill
Sacrificed to men's perverted justice, soaking me with sorrow
From hope I had become the scourge of nations
My crown a corpse, my arm a skull
Until the day when innocence returned and bled itself on me
I felt its truth like cleansing acid upon my skin
I groaned and writhed as purity's medicine disinfected me
The shame awakened into fury - I split in anguished cry
And then the Voice called down to me "The debt is paid" - I shuddered
Though I was settled I could not stop the cracks that continued rending me
On my arm the Voice was silent, the blood, now fading, dying
I could not hold it up - I slumped exhausted, stunned and spent
And from my cracks the fury of fires poured out with fumes
Sulphurous, choking off the little voices - Hell's laughing gas unleashed
And all was silent, the sky above dared not to speak
The weight of sorrow's clouds pressed on my chest - I dared not a breath
The innocence, the life, the blood and flood now pooled within my chest
I cradled it as it was hardened - like me - to stone become
The only voices heard were muffled wailings on my skin - I had none to speak
The clouds brought tears I could not cry so we together wept
A sabbath of sorrow has passed over me, the sun refused to shine
Darkness of a second span now covers me - no promise of another day
My fibers rent, a thousand shards each stiff and full of pain
Now holding both the blood and frame of innocence now lost
Yet creeping at horizon's edge a glimmer of light I see
On this the third day of my sorrow how could hope yet survive?
I hear a blast - the Voice - The Song is singing with the sun!
My heart now empty, is alive! The Life now lives - I'm free!
I settled where the newly-formed sun could warm me
I witnessed the seasons of an eon or more before
The others were summoned to me
These small, scurrying, fleeting whispers climbed on my shoulder
In voices of their own they cried out to the One
Who had called forth us all; their lives but a flash and blast of music
Mine the long drumming notes of millennia
Over me the blood began to flow
Innocence expended to cover souls
A smattering, to blot out sins of generations
And I would humbly harbor such sacrifices
Their generations of hurried, fevered labors
covered me with a presence of their own
Cut stones and carpets, cisterns and fires
To take my place in greeting the sun
Then the crash of cymbals became impatient, harsh
The cries of priests desperate, quavering, unnerving me
Until the Voice would answer - the murmurs of its music
Muffled, muted, descending to my heart, and I would rest
And when the voices were silenced, I entered into restless sleep
And in its place Hell's haunting came
The blanket above began to fray, stones cracking
With heaving desolation, my arm was bared once more
When finally the whispers and scurries returned
New voices, new tongues, the rhythm of many nations
The blood of innocence shed to many gods and thrones
My back bore the shame of murder and disgrace
And on my bare arm the blood of guilt began to spill
Sacrificed to men's perverted justice, soaking me with sorrow
From hope I had become the scourge of nations
My crown a corpse, my arm a skull
Until the day when innocence returned and bled itself on me
I felt its truth like cleansing acid upon my skin
I groaned and writhed as purity's medicine disinfected me
The shame awakened into fury - I split in anguished cry
And then the Voice called down to me "The debt is paid" - I shuddered
Though I was settled I could not stop the cracks that continued rending me
On my arm the Voice was silent, the blood, now fading, dying
I could not hold it up - I slumped exhausted, stunned and spent
And from my cracks the fury of fires poured out with fumes
Sulphurous, choking off the little voices - Hell's laughing gas unleashed
And all was silent, the sky above dared not to speak
The weight of sorrow's clouds pressed on my chest - I dared not a breath
The innocence, the life, the blood and flood now pooled within my chest
I cradled it as it was hardened - like me - to stone become
The only voices heard were muffled wailings on my skin - I had none to speak
The clouds brought tears I could not cry so we together wept
A sabbath of sorrow has passed over me, the sun refused to shine
Darkness of a second span now covers me - no promise of another day
My fibers rent, a thousand shards each stiff and full of pain
Now holding both the blood and frame of innocence now lost
Yet creeping at horizon's edge a glimmer of light I see
On this the third day of my sorrow how could hope yet survive?
I hear a blast - the Voice - The Song is singing with the sun!
My heart now empty, is alive! The Life now lives - I'm free!
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