The Clock Of The Four Winds

COMPLETE LINER NOTES HERE---> https://mystictapedeck.com/bards/the-clock-of-the-four-winds/ The clock of the four winds is a tall-case grandfather style clock originally assembled in 1710 by an Italian astronomer and mathematician named Ricco Foscari, a direct patrilineal descendant of famed explorer, vintner and occultist, Cosimo Foscari. The magical properties of the clock were such that when its hands were moved and positioned in certain configurations, it would trigger remote viewing events which would be projected onto the glass panel cover. The clock was also rumored to serve as a sort of “beacon” used for summoning an other-dimensional being named “Desdinova” who acted as a sort of intermediary between detached yet interconnected causal timelines. LYRICS: -------------------------------------- The chariots lie broken exhausted from war The wheels rolled off in the mud In the morning all good things are good The sun warms up the mud Stillness is raptured in all its arising The seeds grow up from the mud In the morning the dawn weighs a feather The insects hatch from the mud The hunger for sunlight draws flies to the surface The babies wake up in the mud In the morning from green murky waters To wiggle around in the mud Bones growing hollow, the gills turn to lungs Gasping for breath in the mud The fins turn to legs the scales turn to vellum As feathers shake loose from the mud Fly high, all you flying high birds While the warm western winds are beneath you Oh you soaring high birds The sky coming down to greet you We’re all dying to meet you The bird, the great swooping bird Beak open, gobbling gold Oh you soaring high bird The north winds are growing cold Feathers flush with colors bold Now pretend you are the sun Feathers flush with colors bold… Now pretend you are the sun The southern winds, the washboard clouds Diving daringly during the day Teetering upon the tip of the tree The seasons will have their way Tail feathers turning to gray Scatter little birds, oh you tiny little birds The easterly light is encroaching Seeds spilled upon the ground With the end of the autumn approaching And the seasons must have their way… Now pretend you are the sun And the seasons must have their way… Now pretend you are the sun And the seasons must have their way… Rider’s final horse has ridden Puzzle finished, last piece hidden Oysters chatter on evening tide: “I’m Desdinova and I confide, I am the one you warned me of I am the leak and the long lost love And I am the one who will never lie Deathless, I may never die By lizard lens and crystal rope You know me by my telescope” Scattering stars in hand she shouts: “The play is what it’s all about Behind the clock with arms stretched tall The script is on the western wall Behold the light that never warms You’ve been warned, I am the storm” So raise up your chalice and toast to the moon And sing to the stars as they flicker and loom O! Irony! O! Tragedy! Aching knees don’t fail me now We slayed the vile dragon who lived in the skies We bathed in its blood and we pickled its eyes O! Devilry! O! Revelry! If my friends could see me now O! Bravery! Camaraderie! The last lotus eaters recline in the sun The race to return has been finally run Finality! Causality! Swept away on swaggering swans