Music: T.E.TunheimImagine the starry eyed audience chasing us through (the cold slop of) realityexhibited as mannequins (in a menage a trois), our design would be their woundswe would never follow the script, never pass them but a fake smileand every movement would be motley, dispelled from moralsAnd in the sky there would never be any trace of angelsthe virginal air would be vaguely transparentyet it would always be somewhat brightthe wind would carry us (through enormous roars of enthusiastic applause)ye would herald the age of immorality, vividly, ye would bequeth me the most precious jewelleryye seem like such lovely girls, in a most sinful limbo of dreams;we should be an oblique part of the opaque scene...And in the sky there would never be any trace of angelsthe virginal air would be vaguely transparentyet it would always be somewhat brightthe wind would carry us (through enormous roars of enthusiastic applause)
Enslavement Of Beauty Ye That Tempteth, Ye That Bequeth
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