Lost Carcosa - The Great Old Ones

My head hits the soft ceiling

Yet I see through the wall

A white virgin being

Screaming in a call

I had the misfortune

To read this accursed book

I saw the sand dune

And his look

The filthy soft hand

Grabs the onyx pen on my chest

And in a backhand

Snatches the object of his quest

Showing me his abject body

Forcibly tearing my soul

He inseminates his cancer in me

Thus opening the black hole

On distant and unknown lands

In a final laying of hands

I feel my own eyes melt

I see my muse in a last tremor

A pain that I never felt

Forever

On the shores of Hali Lake, he walks

Observing his gigantic kingdom

Dreaming of other worlds

He who unlocked golden and millennial locks

He imagines his ascent in chaos and storms

I see you all take off your disguises

And turn your eyes towards me

Now you ask me to remove my mask

But I don’t wear a mask

No mask.

No mask

Adjusting the crown on his head

The Yellow King closes his eyes and flies away

Disturbing by its power the lake bed

For our decay

Hero of the play, director of the last decline

His black soul as evil scepter

Crossing unknown galaxies, defying the divine

The dark nectar

Planning his conquest

Damning the crowd, he is the pest

In Akeley’s words, I recognize infamous names

Symbols of madness, symbols of cosmic flames

Voices resonate in my head again, again, and again

The yellow sign, Hastur, all bringers of pain

«Along the shore the cloud waves break

The twin suns sink behind the lake

The shadows lengthen

In Carcosa

Strange is the night where black stars rise

And strange moons circle through the skies

But the stranger still is

Lost Carcosa

Songs that the Hyades shall sing

Where flap the tatters of the king

Must die unheard in

Dim Carcosa

Song of my soul, my voice is dead

Die though, unsung, as tears unshed

Shall dry and die in

Lost Carcosa.»