Tryst With Mephistopheles - Owen Pallett

I stumbled on the summit’s path

Clumsy, clumsy

No paragon am I

I can’t even keep my shoes tied

I’ve been in love with Owen ever since

I heard the strains of Psalm 21

Standing between the choirs

As they sang, «Laudate Dominum, Laudate Dominum»

Damn, I wrote it down, but I left it in the pocket of my other jeans

Scrawled across the foolscap: «I don’t know what your devotion means

I don’t know what your devotion means.»

And up, upon the summit I can see

The one I worshipped as a boy

The Creator, The Great White Noise

The Great White Noise

Charged and charging up the ridge

The chests are empty, the coffers too

They float in the flood, and so will you, I swear, so will you

«Your light is spent!

Your light is spent!»

I cried

As I drove the iron spike into Owen’s eyes

The sun sped cross the plains like that cinematic moment where

Humanity and nature collide

When you think, «Everything's gonna be all right,»

Just before the hero gets a bullet in his side

Whizzing off the clifftop

Listening for the spatter, thirty floors below

Down come the vultures

I will not be your fuel anymore

Now the author has been silenced, how will they ever decipher me?

I hope they hear these words and are convinced

You never even knew me

I draw a bruise on your brawny shoulder

Scratch my fingers over your tattoos

The author has been removed