THE FRIEZE OF THE
MONOCLE MAN
Under the streets of Paris - there's a pretty old tale.
Laced with skulduggery and the corpses of
faceless thousands, the only sounds left are the
ancient peals of revolution's bells when they
were new. Sounds like that linger. They
never depart, nor are they forgotten.
-
Now, what's left, up above, reflects nothing.
Not so much as even a map of old would
show. Rubble and paste - things where
streets used to be, tarmac where the
ancient forest wandered. Only the
ghosts would know, and I am one.
-
Gentility makes a mockery of class.
All things that are useless, you see,
must now be put away - for only
new science, in its test, can rule
what's left existent. While once
all that was given over to kings
and nobles, now the sly Devil,
in whatever proportion, is
given sway to take whatever
He so chooses to take.
As for the rest, we
put it all away.
MONOCLE MAN
Under the streets of Paris - there's a pretty old tale.
Laced with skulduggery and the corpses of
faceless thousands, the only sounds left are the
ancient peals of revolution's bells when they
were new. Sounds like that linger. They
never depart, nor are they forgotten.
-
Now, what's left, up above, reflects nothing.
Not so much as even a map of old would
show. Rubble and paste - things where
streets used to be, tarmac where the
ancient forest wandered. Only the
ghosts would know, and I am one.
-
Gentility makes a mockery of class.
All things that are useless, you see,
must now be put away - for only
new science, in its test, can rule
what's left existent. While once
all that was given over to kings
and nobles, now the sly Devil,
in whatever proportion, is
given sway to take whatever
He so chooses to take.
As for the rest, we
put it all away.
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