Three hideously ugly children captured by witches and boiled in a pot until they were rendered into a flat, silvery disk and buried in a transparent plastic coffin.
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Jester: I journey on through the crowds of the city
Past crystal buildings with stars dancing in
Until I come to a black marble plaza
The people won’t venture onto its skin
But I step out on the sleek marble paving
I skate alone on this lake of black ice
The stone is warm not like ice but like velvet
And every slab bears a sculpted device
This is a graveyard I’m strolling over
Beneath my feet lie a million bones
The bones of kings and the bones of jesters
I hear their ghosts singing under the stones
I reach the centre and find a sundial
I seek the sun, but there is no trace
The bowl of heaven is bright above me
But casts no shadows to fall on this face
Narrator: Suddenly a figure is there beside the Jester. It is a tall old man in a dark cloak, holding a wooden staff and a bright lantern. The Jester is reminded of the image of The Hermit he saw in the tarot cards. The old man speaks.
Hermit: What do you seek here among the tombstones?
Jester: I seek the earth, where the wild winds blow.
Hermit: Look there behind you, above the tombstones
Two snow-white birds flying fast and low.
To find the earth you must fly above it
Joining flight with those four bright wings
Jester: How can I fly when my limbs are leaden?
How can I fly with those brilliant things?
Narrator: As the Jester asks this question he realises he is enchanted and has been transformed into a bird. His green clothes are now green feathers. The white birds fly past him, and he tries to join them, but cannot leave the ground. The hermit points with his staff to the Jester’s feet. He looks down and sees that he is still holding, in his right claw, the tarot card, The Fool. He drops it, flexes his wings and takes flight ...
Doves: Fly, fly with me, fly with me, in the silver sky
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, where the spirits fly
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, where the soft winds stream
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, where the seagulls dream
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, on the breath of earth
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, in the realms of mirth
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, where the clouds ascend
Fly, fly with me, fly with me, where the sorrows end
Narrator: The Jester and the white birds fly for what seems many hours above the buildings of glass, rising up on the thermals of the great city, the ecstasy of flight filling the Jester’s heart.
Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his breast and looks down to see that he has been pierced by an arrow. He falls toward the earth, his eyes closing. The last thing he sees is the approaching figure of the hunter with his bow beneath him, a huge man with a beard, clothed, like himself, all in green.
supported by 20 fans who also own “Flight from the enchanter”
Wonderful, beautiful, densely layered music. I'm glad I gave this album several headphone listens before commenting. It did not immediately strike a chord with me, but the more I listened the more I began to understand and appreciate how fantastically rich and deep the sound is. For fans of atmospheric and melodic prog, this is an excellent addition. Bass and drum work are exquisite! paliojen_black