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The Serpent's Egg |
| Voices: Lisa
Gerrard, Brendan Perry, David Navarro Sust Hurdy gurdy: Brendan Perry Violin: Alison Harling, Rebecca Jackson Viola: Sarah Buckley, Andrew Beesley Violoncello: Tony Gamage Tracks 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 and 9 produced by Dead Can Dance. Tracks 1, 2, 7 and 10 produced by Dead Can Dance and John A. Rivers. In loving memory of Susan O'Reilly. |
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Severance,
The birds of leaving call to us,
Yet here we stand endowed with the fear of flight.
Overland
The winds of change consume the land,
While we remain in the shadows of summers now past.
When all the leaves are fallen and turned to dust,
Will we remain entrenched within our ways...
Indifference,
The plague that moves throughout this land.
Omen signs
In the shape of things to come.
If it were within our power,
Beyond the reach of slavish pride.
To no longer harbour grievances,
Behind the mask's opportunists facade.
We could welcome the responsibility
Like a long lost friend,
And re-establish the kingdom of laughter
In the doll's house once again.
For time has imprisoned us
In the order of our years,
In the discipline of our ways
And in the passing of momentary stillness
We can view our chaos in motion
And the subsequent collisions of fools
Well versed in the subtle art of slavery.
With one wish we wake the will within wisdom.
With one will we wish the wisdom within waking.
Woken, wishing, willing.
John Francis Dooley wipe the sleep from your eyes
And embrace the light.
You have slept now for thousand years
Beneath starlet nights.
And now it's time for you to renounce the old ways
And see a new dawn rise.
In former days the masks were raised
When the god came down from off of the mountain,
And a sacrifice was made
For they knew the day of wrath was fast approaching.
Just like yesterday, before the war.
John Francis Dooley the scapegoat has run,
All our sins are disowned.
And now it's time for you to take off thy mask
And cross the Rubicon.
If you and I were one within the eyes of our designs
It would still not change the fact of our leaving.
For tonight we must leave with the first gentle breeze
For the Isles of Ken we are assailing.
Just like Ulysses, on an open sea,
On an odyssey of self discovery.