"They wanted, as we say, 'to call their souls their own.' but that means to live a lie, for our souls are not, in fact, our own." - C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain
The continuum I behold, such is my inner want Not that I should bold above that which is not around me The art of soul is now meaningless As I behold my total lack of self
Lo! Demeter Behold the eart Above and below Thou makest believe Uncreated! Above the sphere Rebellious globe Thou makes us believe
Why, oh why, are we left? To be sin in such perfect a place The desolate mind is so perfectly spoiled In the eyes of a raptures snake
Eyes of a raptures snake
Hear me speak, brothers of the earth My words that shattered like clay So I speak as if thou were a child Lest fire besiegeth thy hearts
Beckon forth! The soulless mankind Standing in ranks of thousands still more But this fate is what I have always feared for we soulless men
We soulless menTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
