Behold as the hawk-nosed man rows
Between condemned shores
Fog licking faces
Wet with tears
Mouths drowned in blood
One woman flees in defiance
Lost, yet desired refuge
Of this diseased baptism
Those who gave her pulse
Waving her off to ashen soil
Under the gaze of the moon
In the shadows of Venice
Once a man of healing
Now with refined tastes
The disciple, Orfeo, is sought
Priscilla seeks help my child
She shall live and live forever
Cast a spell in my name
Render her moot
Send her soul into a river of essence
Engorge the disease, let it feed
Let her life and death flow forth
With a brush and canvas
Emit our image and let the peasants observe
For ages to come
SHE ROTS AT THE DOOR
Pulsating streets of decay
Families expire in ignorance
CANDLES BURN TO THE END OF THE WICK
And are extinguished in neglect
Frothing skin in a cesspool stye
Plague-bearing fruit multiply in abyssal allies
Send her soul into a river of essence
Engorge the disease, let it feed
Let her life and death flow forth
With a brush and canvas
Emit our image and let the peasants observe
For ages to come
She rots at the door, Orfeo...
Let her pass the final threshold
Then cut her down