Get Out of the Tower - Kayo Dot

Monstruous spire spears the purple

Mote of Dust breaches tarnished portal

Far below of its own free will and accord

It isn’t everyday that a god dies

Or every age that a mortal tries

To reach the terrace

Immortal

World crawls around its axis

An endless search for a perfect season

Over the apogee of suffering

And into the watchful eyes of fallen angels

Watching from their holy places

Blessed art they

Amongst the brethren

Hero of the hallowed

Minstrel plays the weakness of mankind

Upon bone horn

And skin stretched over drum

A half helm fountain

Of wildflowers

A banner:

Cellar of salt over black field

Impotent in the breathless air

Suicidal stillness

Mote of Dust

Flies from portal in terror

It was never meant to be

Ever

Meant to be