The dry flapping sound of tiny wings
Signaled the arrival of the moths
They circled in the air
Waiting for the spell of the past to take hold
Before alighting on their many disciples
Those countless supine figures
The participants of the most sacred rite
Remained utterly still
While their clothes were chewed away
Overhead, the moon hovered like a
Vast glowing lamp
In the name of the moth (Bird of prey, bird of prey)
In imitation of a bird of prey
A ritual mask
The anti-light
Descended from on high
It persisted through (The)
Countless waves of (Anti-light)
Duration and (The)
Layers of (Anti-light)
(Descended from on high)
It persisted
Through countless waves of
Duration and
Layers of stuttering clouds
Growing more powerful
As it approached
In its wake followed
The all-encompassing
Blindness of an oil spill
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
