作曲 : David Tibet Almost in the beginning was the murderer And I fell faceless into the world Unaware the moon had changed its face Hallucinatory Mountain arose Atlantine Constellations warped Shed wings Anointing tyranny of stars I arose as Aleph, the Speller, the Killer In my mind fractal texts Broken grammars Droning like honey Sweeter than Ziggurat, ⲁⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲉ The voice or squeal or fear of Thunder The thrushfaced Seven Stars masking the reeds In the middle of Aleph As a coiled comet, the meteor Murderer My head was red as moons Bubbling with threats Doubled like the Trinity I shed Under the river with the dog and the child I speak speech and build the Wall again And close off the storehouse I dreamt nail veils on the Ka’aba Dragging the Khabs Build towers of voices screaming Astaroth dr eamed vials of sap I had one gold volume and whispered “Can I go back to your Satanic flat?” Killed spiders cold and ford black becks Cheeks as red as pomegranates Astaroth blushing curtseying Smiling “Kiss the bride” Or “Time is the Crime” Or “I am true to you as the bluebirdbloodface Full of grace and lice and moss and confusion” Tiny voices like thumbs Arise from Aleph as I was/am/shall be On the Hallucinatory Mountain Full of troubles and colours And the sound of the sand The perpetual Virgin of Evidence Sly ghosts hover like gold And pricks hunger for cats imagined Burning as sadly as the sun So where do I start unreal? I was stripped by time Part of time In its flow, its fields Its mirrors, masks Strut around me But bending me too Did it take me with it? Was I floating above it? Through it? I was an oracle for nothing at all Not even the birds breaking faces to my past Back in the form of the Mountain I envisaged the women Open to me as 93 Thelemic 93 flowers The folds splay crazily and shining Their fast unfurling sunbeams Forcing bright smudges in my past But in my mind July or gorgon The flowers shut Spring snap sharp and lock The door and gate and vial and fountain The fields of rape were barley or wheat Barely beds for the Killer waiting Giddy with spores I planted my past In all who approached And prayed for Babron Lined phrases/boxes Hymned the breeze
作曲 : David Tibet Almost in the beginning was the murderer And I fell faceless into the world Unaware the moon had changed its face Hallucinatory Mountain arose Atlantine Constellations warped Shed wings Anointing tyranny of stars I arose as Aleph, the Speller, the Killer In my mind fractal texts Broken grammars Droning like honey Sweeter than Ziggurat, ⲁⲙⲛ̄ⲧⲉ The voice or squeal or fear of Thunder The thrushfaced Seven Stars masking the reeds In the middle of Aleph As a coiled comet, the meteor Murderer My head was red as moons Bubbling with threats Doubled like the Trinity I shed Under the river with the dog and the child I speak speech and build the Wall again And close off the storehouse I dreamt nail veils on the Ka’aba Dragging the Khabs Build towers of voices screaming Astaroth dr eamed vials of sap I had one gold volume and whispered “Can I go back to your Satanic flat?” Killed spiders cold and ford black becks Cheeks as red as pomegranates Astaroth blushing curtseying Smiling “Kiss the bride” Or “Time is the Crime” Or “I am true to you as the bluebirdbloodface Full of grace and lice and moss and confusion” Tiny voices like thumbs Arise from Aleph as I was/am/shall be On the Hallucinatory Mountain Full of troubles and colours And the sound of the sand The perpetual Virgin of Evidence Sly ghosts hover like gold And pricks hunger for cats imagined Burning as sadly as the sun So where do I start unreal? I was stripped by time Part of time In its flow, its fields Its mirrors, masks Strut around me But bending me too Did it take me with it? Was I floating above it? Through it? I was an oracle for nothing at all Not even the birds breaking faces to my past Back in the form of the Mountain I envisaged the women Open to me as 93 Thelemic 93 flowers The folds splay crazily and shining Their fast unfurling sunbeams Forcing bright smudges in my past But in my mind July or gorgon The flowers shut Spring snap sharp and lock The door and gate and vial and fountain The fields of rape were barley or wheat Barely beds for the Killer waiting Giddy with spores I planted my past In all who approached And prayed for Babron Lined phrases/boxes Hymned the breeze
