A tale of terror as a psychic traveler exteriorizes from his earthly body only to become hopelessly lost in space and time.
Copyright 1978 Cam Spillman and Mike Safron. All Rights Reserved.
|
What happens when a dying holy man ritually astral projects? Heaven or Hell? Angels or Demons? This piece reflects Spillman's obsession with the eternal search, contrasted against the harsh realities of the illusion of Maya. Performed in a classic progressive rock style, but with vocal strength and commitment seldom heard in the genre.
|
Song for Good
Floating softly over your bed, eyes projected high,
so high...
Body suffers long but one needs but to leave to die,
leave and die...
Angels sing, harps will ring,
golden stairways climb up to the sky.
Golden flaming light will blind you,
loud explosions in the eye.
Moving to a new awareness, to a life begun,
just begun...
Flex your wings that God has granted, take you
to the sun, eye of the sun.
Fire blinding light, sound, screaming,
Sun gleaming hot, blind, streaming down.
Falling to the light like a moth to a flame.
Beating wings portray a loud display
Your time has come.
(Falling angels sing a sad refrain for freedom)
Fly so high and never say goodbye,
Your time has come.
(Falling angels sing a sad refrain for freedom)
Weightless, light-speed, streaking,
moving quickly like you should.
(Falling angels sing a sad refrain for freedom)
As you fall into the sun you sing your song for good,
your song for good.
Fire, blinding light, sound, screaming,
sun gleaming hot, blind, streaming down.
x |
|
 |
|