Imperium III

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Current 93

Current 93 is an eclectic British experimental music group, working since the early 1980s in folk-based musical forms. The band was founded in 1982 by David Tibet (né David Michael Bunting, renamed 'Tibet' by Genesis P-Orridge[citation needed] sometime prior to forming the group). more »

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Imperium
Imperium
Imperium

This life of man is but a span
We all come down in fields of rape

Our little eyes do glitter like the sun
But the leaves do wither
And the branches decay
And all are born of
Will soon fall away
He gave me honey
All mixed with gold
He gave me words
Envowed with awe
He gave me a delicate gown to wear
All stitched with sorrow
And hemmed with fear
And twisted steel and broken wheels

In a million years ten million years
I curse all gold and silver
This life of man is but a span
We all come down in fields of rape

As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit
Nor how the bones do grow
In the womb of her that is with child
Even so thou knowest not the words of God who maketh all
In the morning sow thy seed
And in the evening withhold and apprehend
For thou knowest not whether she'll prosper
This or that
Or whether they should both be

In a million years ten million years
I curse all gold and silver

Remember now thy creator in the days of life
How evil days come out
And the years go by
Then thou shalt see
I had no pleasure
How the sun or the light
Or the moon and the stars be all darkened
How the clouds return after the rain
In the day when the kings of the house shall tremble
And the strong men shall bow themselves
And the quiet de-cease for there are few
And those who are gone to the windows be darkened
And the door shall be shut on the streets
When the sound of the quiet days
And we shall summon the voice of the birds
And all the daughters of music
Shall be brought low
And men shall be afraid of that which is high
And fear shall be in the way
And the almond tree shall flourish
And the grasshopper shall be a burden
And desire shall fail
Because man goeth to his long home
And the mourners go about the streets
Or ever the silver gone be loose
Or the golden bone be broken
Or the pigeon be broken at the fountain
Or the wheel broken in the system
Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was
And the spirit shall return into God who gave it

Vanity of vanity sayeth good job
All is vanity
All is vanity
Imperium

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