Final Fantasy
cockatrice
Oh basilisk, oh cockatrice
The prophet was a child of flesh
Stolen from the family creche
And hidden in the wilderness
A statue on a steepletop
The prophet's now a man of rock
The hundred thousand in his flock
Will gather underneath-a him
Owen and I walk among the plots
I'm guided by the slightest touch
With his fingertips upon my neck
I'm made to be a marionette
He asks me how I'd rather go
To burn in the fire or freeze with the snow
Well I'd rather die painful and alone
Than be a prophet turned to stone
So: Owen, Owen protect me
From a life everlasting
Owen, Owen protect me
From a life everlasting
- :
- Miscellaneous
- Heartland
- Spectrum, 14th Century
- Plays To Please
- Miscellaneous
- Compilation
- He Poos Clouds
- Has a Good Home
- Young Canadian Mothers
- FM4 Soundselection: 13
- Many Lives → 49 MP
- Spex CD #63
- 2006-01-11: Over the Top, Toronto, ON, Canada
- 2006-09-29: Berlin, Germany
- Uncut: Wake Up!
- Esopus, Volume 8: Spam
- Musikexpress 0210
- Puppy Love: 10 Years of Tomlab
- XVI Reflections on Classical Music
- Rolling Stone: New Noises, Volume 78