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Archangel Thunderbird

When the everywhere-eye asks you,

Who is the emperor of the sky
Take the Archangel's Thunderbird

Go to Edgar Allen in the tower of sleep
He'll tell you a story which makes you to creep
The echo of your cries is falling so deep

Rent a destroyer and sail to Cape Cod
There lives a lion they call him God
There is no elevator to Eden, but a hole in the sky

In shock corridors

People are standing
With their eyes in their hands

But they don't understand

Why their confessional folding-chairs
Go into the narcotic flight of stairs

Baiting soldiers are sleeping in the melting House of Wax
Why is the audience not taking the insurrection-axe?
Thousands of windows burst open and the alarm bells are broken