HOME | DD

Description
The soul that first fashioned that gear from voided virgin iron
Weeps from the bottom of hell knowing
What he caused.
Turning are the gears which devour! The
Flesh passes between them, leaving nothing
Behind-- Life becomes red ruin to oil the moving
Parts which produce what we call for.
The Soveran, high in heaven,
Decreed a silence so that no angel would speak,
So that there would be stillness to answer movement.
The word, that word, the word which ends all other words
Came up before the throne, heralded by a former denizen.
Progress,
And a fallen angel grinned with fang'd teeth.
Time continued on.
Go, look at the machines which turn
And consider in silence,
Be the sillness which balances the movement.
Consider the way in which old life is burned
And consider then the growing smoke which in the city of Wind
Blocks out the sun so that his glory is no more,
Negating the beatiful moon.
So man progresses,
In that he is walking forward.
Dante saw the factories of London in his nightmares
And named the city Dis and wrote the truth when
He had a lonely, dirty pilgrim walk
Forward and down.
Down and down and down and down
Down towards Lucifer and Judas and a frozen lake
Where there can simply be nothing else.
Oh what beautiful progress man has had
Walking his primrose path to Hell.

Description
The soul that first fashioned that gear from voided virgin iron
Weeps from the bottom of hell knowing
What he caused.
Turning are the gears which devour! The
Flesh passes between them, leaving nothing
Behind-- Life becomes red ruin to oil the moving
Parts which produce what we call for.
The Soveran, high in heaven,
Decreed a silence so that no angel would speak,
So that there would be stillness to answer movement.
The word, that word, the word which ends all other words
Came up before the throne, heralded by a former denizen.
Progress,
And a fallen angel grinned with fang'd teeth.
Time continued on.
Go, look at the machines which turn
And consider in silence,
Be the sillness which balances the movement.
Consider the way in which old life is burned
And consider then the growing smoke which in the city of Wind
Blocks out the sun so that his glory is no more,
Negating the beatiful moon.
So man progresses,
In that he is walking forward.
Dante saw the factories of London in his nightmares
And named the city Dis and wrote the truth when
He had a lonely, dirty pilgrim walk
Forward and down.
Down and down and down and down
Down towards Lucifer and Judas and a frozen lake
Where there can simply be nothing else.
Oh what beautiful progress man has had
Walking his primrose path to Hell.