Archangels Thunderbird Paroles

Of the sky

Take the Archangel's Thunderbird



Go to Edgar Allen

In the tower of sleep

He'll tell you a story

Which makes you to creep

The echo of your cries

Is falling so deep


There lives a lion

They call him God

There is no elevator to Eden

But a hole in the sky



In shock-corridors

People are standing

With their eyes in their hands

But they don't understand

Why their confessional folding-chairs

Go into the narcotic flight of stairs



Baiting soldiers are sleeping

In the melting House of Wax

Why is the audience not taking

The insurrection-axe

Thousands of windows burst open

And the alarm bells are broken