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Easter

de Novembre

Here in this shroud of light
Centuries staring at me through the haze
In a slow demise
Lines of a song looking away

In a slow demise
In a low streaming of scent
In a touch of gloria
I see your face

Let's have the night
And drink from the chalice
In rivers of saturn
Bodies pass me by from the tide
In this sin

A desire, pollutes the skies of the town
Determines the upraising
The oldest breach of the caste, roaring out loud

Here in a shroud of fright
Pages of madness staring at me
Lines of a song atavic
Veins of a son taken away

In a slow demise
In a low streaming of scent
In a touch of gloria
I see your face

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