Ordo Draconis - Turpentine Chimaera lyrics

The First Image on Entering the Gallery THE aspect I thought to partake of Casual quiet alone and the Wide grimace to be inane Aud'bly smirk sardonic scorn. Still the choice I have between Both, one of which receives a Grimmer grin when mordant the wit Which leaves but one: return. The Second Image A web of vivid movements Holds me in its grasp, though Profound its depths which lured me in To bounce my eyes back Into the gallery. The First Image A rigid stare peeps from behind The hollow sockets deep Forcing mine to delve into their Dazzling darkness Torn is the parlous shroud This apparition wears Who breathes anew resuming voice With the view of finding ears. The Third Image Thus the mind sharp with Feverish chimaera, each Sense engaged and Merged into a blend (The cries that found themselves Shiv'ring o'er my spine Stir such taste of turpentine that Space is clear to resound), Myself I find Drawn into the landscape To be surveyed and dwelt upon. Half of the sun submerged For gleams and shades alike To ridge the erstwhile gloss and stretch The slopes up to the pike, My wand'rings reel dispersed Across the canvas wide Which exceeds by sharp relief Its listless lifelessness: The same chiaroscuro through Which the expanse immures me Obtrudes the path that leads beyond the Horizon's span. The Fourth Image -Out through the next... No Wind to carry the sheets, has vexed the Placid sea, breathes tacit silence... The surface so conspicuously smooth; I must be the pivot of these ripples, As Aeolus I press the winds from their recess And hoist the canvas as the sailor. Waves of one wave, first Plodding and jostling, break step, Unravelled, steal a march To dislodge me hence from this watery grave; The dark waters I ride Revolt, swill out the dead seaweed, like Shoals through meshes 'scaped The sea, unshackled, bellows: Liberty! Still inordinate, the sway Remains for me to bridle and vanquish Until more sharply delineated... Likewise, the primordial artist Attributes his work to the dissolution Of such a tremulous framework: The Order of the Dragon. The Second Image Out of the gallery. Yet one last glimpse, surmised right so: My web I'll weave accordingly, A tangled clasp, a hauling net, Though, extricated, the spirits flee And strings shall be pulled again.