Paroles House of keys Fucked Up

House of keys

A beacon called to me, with bills in the belfry
An angel watched history sell the ringing bells of make believe
I met a stranger, worn to worse, broken by the storm, who cursed;
“Look into the mirror first, you are the same but in reverse”
Extra extra, see the words they wrote upon the world You
Tell your story through a pane of glass nobody heard
The clock struck none before they passed me through another door
A herald painted grace fully, in Imperium’s gallery
Everything started to look like money
The art, that charming capitulation
The music sounds like desperation, buy me, play me, pay me honey
My tender archipelago, just a speck through the window
The better you less you see, you know
(Post No) Bill’s stuck in limbo!
The paint flaked to reveal black steel beams underneath
Tanks lit for delightful wars in never ending iron halls
Behind the final door where nevermore hangs heaven’s word for thee, An
Instrument played by the wind, made by the masterpiece-machine
The holy House of Keys fortifies techdromedes Only
Time will tell you when to live, and when to die
Waves made promise to the sand to push, that each new age would stand
Above the last tides fading dream, to drive with purpose to the green
Now dreams torn apart by time, repackaged new by Dr. Smile
Look like the old ones we forgot, so jaded in our hands they rot
He plays the hopeless like a fiddle, the world made to pass through a riddle
Led astray, the blind apostle forgot what was impossible
Medusa offers you a cheque, the key to heaven ’round her neck
Torpid idols turned by staring, tender mercies cold to Charon
Life lived on a gilded leash of opulence and gritted teeth
Comfort and beauty assured; “Yes I will obey you sir”
All the music that you hear came from a box inside a locked
Factory where keys were built from plastic and they press themselves
Cities crumble down to dust, burdened by the weight of lust
Lured by reverence and fame, slums of exquisite remains
Art marked with the masters seal is just a prison for ideas
Under his watchful eye it stays, afraid to leave the golden frame
You always thought there could be more, the truth is locked behind a door
On bended knee, prone to behold, you strain to watch through a keyhole
I didn’t have an answer when the locks made quarter ’round my neck
The tide pulled back as darkness fell, and so the sand lay still again