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Borellus (HIM)

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 it's ashes at his pleasure Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood Bring only fear and sadness Old years of play 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 incinerated incinerated You're under pressure baby Christ has returned he's returning In every new born child In every new born child You're under pressure baby Christ has returned he's returning In every new born child In every new born child In 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 Study and raise the fine shape of an animal Out of it's ashes at his pleasure You're under pressure baby Christ has returned, he's returning In every new born child In every new born child You're under pressure baby Christ has returned, he's returning In every new born child In every new born child