Gargoyles Ye Rose Aloft

Gargoyles Ye Rose Aloft

Peter:

In weary lust they have been sate o'er aisle

Seem to be screaming:

Demons:

Come we will - Stranger! Stay for a while...

You will be our capture - why won't you be...

Peter:

So the dome is assailed by deviltry

Demons:

Virulence 'thro abominable sight

Come we will

Ye wait!

Tremendous ae!

Peter:

They frown upon earth and earth's centuries

Here the gargoyle's high above mighty kings

The beast has outdone 'em so she's got to wheeze

Lay wallow in cloudy skies - watch 'em if you please

I was sick and tired of blear and rainy day

so I did decide to have my rest that way:

In spite of ostensible spat in my heart

I sat at the pulpit in hall breathing hard

Demons as gargoyles:

What would you say if we asked you

to remain here

until the time when days and nights are over -

and then... come we will!

Did you not e'er happen to feel

as if you had lived somewhere formerly

and long ago?

And now you do discover

you're looking at something

you had seen long, long ago

Peter:

I've lost the track of time.

Wild slumber swept away 'em all.

Foamy fog is upon the woe-stained floor,

pale gleam of silver chandeliers,

obscure and delusive chants -

have run over the choirs

so slow...

Arthur:

...Hence your virtuous mass

shall be almost like the sacred grove

where GOD himself does dwell and reign

among such saints which all you have become!

Peter:

The last one I heard:

Arthur:

Sow the seed of the faith

deep into your hearts and lay open the gates

do lead towards the skies - there's the only device

that does promise place for you in paradise!

Peter:

I was falling asleep so I did close my eyes...

I was assailed by the spectre of beast;

Lay waste all those charges 'cause I can't resist:

I was obsessed by the shadow of noose;

Take away your husk - I cannot refuse...

Oze:

Insidious grove! And you shall have

your wooden scales for your very own!

Peter:

It seems to me I won't suffer this a-waiting for...

Demons as gargoyles:

As the darkness doth ravish the light wi' delight

sae deceit decimateth all the devoted minds.

Chase the moribund rays of that desperate dawn -

blood-red hues

that ye're hunting among for the crown

ye had ne'er had - and probably never ye will...

Ae hath ne'er been belonging to yer majesty!

But... ye believe that they will

reveal the unreal,

the forces they hold

and the power they steal!

Peter:

Bemoan the lust of life with me!

Bewail their gloomy destiny!

Oze:

Just beware their bicker!

Of this ae... I don't care!

Caacrinolaas:

Well, ye lay bar those wooden gates!

Oze:

Run outwards the reality!

Over the yawning deep...

Both in chorus:

Where as ye sow so shall ye reap!

Peter:

Each one received,

swallowed and sipped

of that holy host'

"body" and "blood" -

wafer and vine...

You'll do as divine

when yield shall arise;

when you get Eucharist!

It seemed to me then...

They swallowed and sipped

instead of that holy host'

wafer and vine

only acorns and water....

like in sleepy nightmare!

All seemed to me then

"He seems to be dead!"

Lo! Whole vortex appears

drawing all wicked things:

whining demons and imps

there is nothing to seize!

They reflowed forth again

beating their wings in vain,

snarling; no one is to blame;

but it's true all the same!

This bout mire before me spread forth the abyss

so the heaven e'en seemed to be

on the verge of tears.

Were I asked what I'd seen

through the veil of that mist:

thick and grey one had covered swamps

with its quilt,

and the silence -

dead one did howl so through my ears

that I hardly could hear - I should probably say:

Almost nothing I felt through that torture but pain,

but that ominous emptiness did whirl me away...

As it seemed to me then -

far away from my corpse!

So that night swam before me - it turned out to be

one in which the moon barely shone over the sea

of that desolate gloom 'n hardly anything was

seen but blue marsh lights were skipping about

in the swamps.

And quagmire before me spread forth the abyss....

O'er that dark one a rather small stump

met my sight

sticking out from the earth, remnant of rotten trunk

of a tree that had grown o'er that deep long ago,

and roots spreading throughout this one

like mighty snakes,

twisted roots reaching downwards into that bog,

as if there to quench

their blind and desperate thirst...

Met my sight deep

and roots simply hanging in the air.

Arthur:

Behold his holy holt anon...

Peter:

But I shall be dead long before

everything will have become clear to me...

I have never heard such improper song

e'en though incredible call it ye will !

Demons as gargoyles:

Call us inscrutable!

Then all the things of that sort shall cease!

Call 'em incredible;

wood or stone... and bog if you please!

Which guise do you prefer?

Whose scales do you mean to be the chosen one?

Caacrinolaas:

You had better petrify!

Why won't you try to deify your way?