Flora and Fauna, the sisters of Season Of Spring and of Summer Allow now our drummer To drum out the beat For the feet of the sisters To glide and to creep Like the encroaching sleep Which may perch on your shoulder if we cannot keep you awake And on the edge of your seat, sir.
Now the former, sweet Flora, will finger the flute While the other continues to glide and to slide Like a sequined Venetian harlequin bride; And now Fauna will mimic the movements of bird and of beast As she graces the work of our landscape artiste And all is completely unfeasible Completely lacks reason We guarantee.
Presently In the eye of the beholder Sweet Flora seemingly draws from the aether a lyre And with flourishing fingers she plucks from the heavens A song of the seasons, a pagan ode to Pan!
Behold! No aid of hoops, no strings The vestal-******-harlot sisters sing Of beautiful Persephone And with unseen damselfly wings Ascend from mediocrity All melody forgotten All the drums create cacophony And you will find serenity in chaotic monotony Now let this climaxing crescendo banish all your sorrowing!
No more that light; no more that sacred realm Life’s door was dappled gloam; now all is black. A man of wax with saintly, hollow eyes Devoid of sin, devoid of love and light That golden room is lost – you can’t turn back. Now love has lost its lustre - lust lost joy And coy eyes turn to watch the empty man Struck by eternal beauty, and condemned To haunt the broken world of mortal men; And shrilling wind caresses empty hand.