Frequency

My apocalyptical dream of a man behind a mask
A vision, delusion, a hallucination,
a something that led me astray
I have stared in a place
in a "never-been time"
I saw his feather is spinous, injecting a virus,
his mission will come to an end

When we dance with the dead,
sweet and feral liaison
Facing pestilence scenes
in my mirror of dreams

On the day when the sun disappears,
then I see the lights in a city of angels

Dehumanized toys dropping dead
with a strange manufacturing vice
They still live in fear of the old puppeteer:
he's the beast in a white panoply

With my stereoscope I saw pictures of death,
watching "War of the Worlds"
on the screen in my head

On the day when the sun disappears,
then I see the lights in a city of angels
And we're watching a downfalling star
It reflects in a river of tears
on the day when the sun disappears
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