The Underside Of Eden

There is a fear here
Azrael has a finger on my pulse
His infinity is not so far removed
From the Metatrons' babbling insanities
Music of the Spheres bouncing
As infinite echoes bickering in this rubber tomb
Whom God helps? None but itself. So if God is death, death is god, yes?

There is a fear here
Azrael has a'whispered in my ear
His infinity is not seeking to improve
On the Metatrons' gabbled profanities
Music of the Spheres receding
As infinite sorrows in this indefinite pause of doom
Whom God helps? None but itself.

Signs on this bone-sown road show naught but portents
The angry dead feign smiles as they point the way
Through nothing but rocks just quietly spinning
Around lights a'gaining critical mass.

It is all fires, but no cleansing here
It is all fires, but no cleansing here
It is all fires, but no cleansing here
It is all fires.