3 January 2013
Deep beneath the waves Where light dies and fades And treasure lies, decays There's a city built for all.
In the great Atlantic Ocean With its waves' a-lapping motion There is no place for our emotion Down in Rapture's royal halls.
Where dreams, ideals and success Of humanity, obsess As the gentle waves caress The surf-scrapers' walls.
Where the glorious and the grand Dance and twirl far from the sand Held by mighty Neptune's hand In the Masquerade Ball.
But inside it grew a sickness Of power, freedom, business Which broke and tore the listeners Into furious Civil War.
And so the city burnt an crumbled It's glory hurt and humbled It's halls echoing rumbles Of the fighting that they bore.
Now what's left is a shell Of the old, majestic hell Not a single ringing bell For the Rapture Family hall.
But their anthem can be caught If you listen to the wrought Iron singing, whispering thought To the emptiness, nothing more.
No gods.
No kings.
Only man.
Rapture • Opuss № I