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Cockatrice Lyrics
Oh basilisk, oh cockatrice
The prophet was a child of flesh
Stolen from the family creche
And hidden in the wilderness
A statue on a steepletop
The prophet's now a man of rock
The hundred thousand in his flock
Will gather underneath-a him
Owen and I walk among the plots
I'm guided by the slightest touch
With his fingertips upon my neck
I'm made to be a marionette
He asks me how I'd rather go
To burn in the fire or freeze with the snow
Well I'd rather die painful and alone
Than be a prophet turned to stone
So: Owen, Owen protect me
From a life everlasting
Owen, Owen protect me
From a life everlasting
The prophet was a child of flesh
Stolen from the family creche
And hidden in the wilderness
The prophet's now a man of rock
The hundred thousand in his flock
Will gather underneath-a him
I'm guided by the slightest touch
With his fingertips upon my neck
I'm made to be a marionette
To burn in the fire or freeze with the snow
Well I'd rather die painful and alone
Than be a prophet turned to stone
From a life everlasting
Owen, Owen protect me
From a life everlasting
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Owen, Owen protect me
It
s so awsome yet sad to call your own name in your own song. So haunting "Owen Owen protect me". Im singing it over and over here at work like some magic spell no one knows.