Lord Vicar Sign Of Osiris Risen
Collecting pieces of what once was me, she joins them
silently by hand
She works her way on the familiar figure, I feel the
pressure, an urge to see
Extreme heat inside the coffin home, carried through
the dying land
I know my son because I swallowed his eye; this was the
moment, my mind set free:
Lord of Love, Lord of Silence, Lord of the Dead. A
process of imitation,
return of vegetation through the flood. His backbone
and His river, a Sacred
Ram kept in His memory. The Soul of the Lord, of the
pillar of Stability.
His genitals divided, worshipped His will, His
fertility. Gloomy, solemn,
mournful actions for the rebirth of the grain. Sister
in the sorrow, sharing
His Kingdom with the Dead. If wheat and clay were
transformed, He will
always be the Perfect One.
This was all revealed to me in the movements of a
ritual
Hooded figures guiding me through the moments of
despair
Witnessing the sign of silence, I understand the union:
Between man and a woman there's a return
Nail by nail and bone to bone, he is to be complete
again
Like a beast he is reborn: On his feet and near
perfection
Blood is rushing through his veins, his heart now beats
with pain
Shivering, this deadly form, he dreams with open eyes
Hand in hand we rise and pray for those who came before
us
We will let our love burn and our slaves will lose
their sight
Resurrecting heavens vast we reflect the light that
once was
Horrid is the might we bear as we strike back the night
Hope that you can hear the same strong and brave voice
that I heard
The order of the guiding signs remains the same, just
like above
All I said throughout the night, I did mean every word
Can you share this mystery with me, my only true love?
