my golden locks were shorn and now I wander,
a forlorn angel in a strange, strange world,
a son of lord uranus-lady gaia,
stripped of power, earthward hurled.
i swim amidst the stormy ocean chaos,
and stumble through the burning desert sands,
then crawl up to the summit of mt. destiny
where I shall make my stand.
crimson blood flows from my broken body,
a burning testament to endless pain,
and yet I stand defiant as I shout into
the driving wind and rain!
boreas is howling through the cobalt sky,
shaking foundations of time and space,
ignoring brother atlas' pleas, i cry,
"i am a stranger in this place!"
"i am a god imprisoned in this coat of flesh,
prometheus the flame of flames am i,"
and as i reach on high to touch the stars,
i'm almost there . . . until i slip and slide
. . . back down, down, down, down to . . .
earth and blood . . . misunderstood . . .
i can hear the approaching drums of the
crimson king . . .
shouting, "ha!, my don quixote
i will twist your soul into a minor theme!"
... but no, no, no, no . . .
i will run away
up the side
of this hollow world!
i will dive into
the depths
of
nether seas!
my spirit is unquenchable,
invincible,
a flame expanding free . . .
now i am god!
