[Lyric] The Griding Sword with Discontinuous Wound (Jute Gyte)

No, Caesar, you were born with the blades in you
Auriga Soranus whispers your name
The face that once was marble now is flesh
The horn of the goat seized in the serpent’s mouth
Blood blossoms on the sacrificial stone
The face of Taurus gleams with seven rays
Five mirrors illuminate the caverned man
The grain spills from the belly of the bull
The places where the goats are torn apart
In vitriol to find the secret stone
Earth's core hot like the entrails of a beast
The terracotta face of victory

The labyrinth of the continuum
An outcast on the mountains of the heart
The inward turn becomes the inward spiral
A holy hen upon the nest of night
Do we not feel the breath of empty space?
This ubiquitous virtual sense of loss
The yawning gulf of past and future time
The silent outward turn of emptiness
We are the relics of our ruined past
The rotting of the base material
The yliaster sphere turned porphyry
The everlasting pitiful “too late”
Let us not speak of what we cannot have
Two thousand years force-fed the flesh of Christ
The sunset was mistaken for the dawn
They drank the wine and now we drink the blood
The solar crown becomes the crown of thorns
Process as catching fire between extremes
Anointed with the ash of fired gods
The law revealed within the thought of death
The king submerged within the ravaged mare
Now supplicant before the empty throne
The gray and sullen stubbornness of fact
The constant fabrication of new lies

In nature there is neither line nor color
This cosmic order, everlasting fire
The incommensurable magnitudes
The deepening red of that unconquered sun
Eternity is torn apart in time
The profanation of the mysteries
The highest values devalue themselves
Osiris-Antinous is born again
To you the conquerors and the pale saints
Music consumed in the very act of birth
The griding sword with discontinuous wound
The hawk is swallowed by the snake it’s caught