"He screamed and screamed and screamed
|
in a voice whose falsetto panic no acquaintance
|
of his would ever have recognized: and though
|
he could not rise to his feet he crawled and rolled
|
desperately away from the damp pavement where
|
dozens of Tartarean wells poured forth their
|
exhausted whining and yelping to answer
|
his own insane cries"
|
|
Subterranean vaults behold
|
man mad enough to be here
|
Through the Stygian hole
|
to this malodorous gulf
|
|
Down, down ran the stairs
|
in three abrupt turns
|
Down, down, down below
|
But this fool man just went on
|
|
The chorused anguish
|
of doom-dragged moaning
|
|
Like a stricken flesh sans mins
|
And the voices continued
|
but so did he...
|
Through the cyclopean vaulting
|
and black noisome corridors
|
|
Revelations found
|
Like silent eerie sentinels
|
Haunted dreams that carry on
|
Like vacant planets on their way
|
|
Haunted cavers he
|
They wail their twised cry
|
The wail of the Tartarean wells
|
Like a smister planets on their way
|
|
Sickening
|
The formulaes of Curwen were
|
found amid these haunted memories
|
Where the science went to madness
|
and madness to science
|
|
Theme from H.P. Lovecraft's
|
"the Case of Charles Dexter Ward"
|
|
-----------------
|
The Wail Of The Tartarean Wells
|
| Dawn Of Relic |
