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letra de theory of the grotesque - imperial vengeance

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within these damasked patterned walls i hear the evening bell
heralding the death of day i fall unto its spell
then drown into wormwood reverie a merciful release from the toils of daily ritual
at last, an inner peace
but oh, this baleful union. twice nightly do i slip into her
the goddess green; who holds me in her grip
haunted am i by the unblinking gazes from ancestors mine, that stare ‘neath cracked glazes
trapped in these moments, sleepless they watch
sleepless and unblinking gaze, from myriad tableau
the gallery of gaunt aspects that stare from long ago
and still the goddess pours her sweet poisons in my head
whilst canvases are transformed into a landscape of the dead

immersed in darkening waters deep midst sound of drownded bells
and m-n-scripts from lightless crypts, one thousand rumoured h-lls
crack the spines of these forbidden books, what creatures lie within?
each canto read, dark paths to tread, through verses soaked in sin
the faces at the window that only come at night

the result of a family evil too terrible to impart-
these crumbling walls: my skin, this inner room: my heart
i have no fear of danger only in its in ultimate effect: in terror
and the shadows grow, and the shadows grow
daily drawn to the distant spire that rises from the sea of roofs
i stare transfixed i hear its’ call: “my walls are cursed and so must fall”
entranced as the ancient minaret points blasphemously at heaven
hypnotised by the silhouette, that fast becomes obsession:
it’s feathered minions sweep and dive and ride the autumn air
circling the lofty spire, yet never settling there
for beneath that rotting campanile a ghastly secret lies
that holds me to its’ legacy of autumn midnight skies
bound am i to howl alone amidst those rotting eaves
and through those characters and galleries a deeper darkness weaves:
beyond life and beyond death’ twixt truth and balanced reason
no way out or turning back
here in the season of the grotesque

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