Borellus
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Borellus
Essential Salts of animals
May be so prepared and preserved
That an ingenious
Man may have the whole
Ark of Noah in his own study
And raise the fine shape of
An animal out of its ashes
At his pleasure
Unhappy is he to whom
The memories of childhood
Bring only fear and sadness
Oho, yes, lovely
Wretched is he who looks
Back upon lone hours
In vast and dismal chambers
With brown hangings
And maddening rows
Of antique books
Watch them in twilight groves
Oh, in twilight groves, oh, in twilight groves
By method from the essential
Salts of humane dust
A philosopher may call up
The shape of any dead ancestor
From the dust where
Into his body has been
Incinerated, icinerated, icinerated
You’re under pressure, baby
Christ has returned, he’s returning
And every new born child
And every new born child
You’re under pressure, baby
Christ has returned, he’s returning
And every new born child
And every new born child
And every new born child
Essential Salts of animals
May be so prepared and preserved
That an ingenious
Man may have the whole
Ark of Noah in his own, oh, study
And raise the fine shape of animal
Out of its ashes at his pleasure
You’re under pressure, baby
Christ has returned, he’s returning
And every new born child
And every new born child
You’re under pressure, baby
Christ has returned, he’s returning
And every new born child
And every new born child
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