Painters of the Tempest - Part II - Triptych Lux

Come forth, dark herald, bringer of light
Born by the burning swans and his plague breath
Creator of the dream coil
A halo aloft as hands entwine

Painters of the tempest
With their red hands
The world, their canvas
Through the mist of the storm glass

And Bruegel dreamt the angels above
As Bosch danced in earthly delight

Angels fall into the canvas
Reaching for the light
Heaven is empty
And all the beauty is here

Upon this bone palette, the sway of nine tails
Layered lashings of euphoria and chaos
Triptychs unfold like wings
As the arms of our fathers
Bear the weight of what they've done
Anti-matter martyrs

Warmth of life, where they sing of fire
Children's eyes, for they all shine
As tears rise, oceans of flame billow
When all dreams lose hope

(And Bruegel wept for the fading sun) angels fall into the canvas
Reaching for the light, heaven is empty (where have all)
As hell below (the angels gone?)
As hell below (gone)
Painted by ghosts

Lords of lifeless eyes in this garden of wilted flowers
Vultures spake the mother tongue

Hear the children, a breathless sleep
Where they dream a new day
Echoing, oh, when they dream
Ebb and flow, free falling

Ooh-oh, beautiful and calm and fragile and whole
Where they dream a new day
Ooh-oh, through the coil, they course and carousel
Echoes, ooh-ah

Hear the lost children
Hear the children sing
Through the coil, they carousel
Within this stained-glass womb
They sing with open minds

Within this stained-glass womb
They see with open minds
The event horizon and beyond

A wasteland so barren
Haunted by a sea of pale faces
The city of lost children
Raising their death-shrouded flags
Can you hear the red drum pounding?
The heartbeat of many as one
Curator, father, what have we become?

Radiance, blinding horizon
The brilliant sunrise, their horizons
Where they seize this life
Our children, painters they are
They are the change
Painters